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I<ite:&tufe, history, ki\d $tate fVogYe^s. 

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VOL. I. APRIL,' 1877. NO. L 


We launch our little bark'upon the literary waters, freighted with humble yet 
earnest Lopes for the accomplishment of some measure of benefit, through instruc- 
tion, entertainment or pleasure, for the sons and daughters of Xew Hampshire, at 
home and abroad, more than for anything of distinction or profit for ourselves. 
We have long entertained the opinion that some publication, different from the ordi- 
nary newspaper which is devoted generally, and almost necessarily, to the record of 
cui rent events and partisan political discussion — a publication recording and present- 
ing regularly to the people something of the facts of our history, of the lives and 
achievements of our representative men, of the development of our material re- 
sources, the upbuilding of our industries, and the moral, social and educational 
progress of the people, together with a fair proportion of what is more properly 
known as literary matter, would be welcomed and supported by the people of Xew 
Hampshire, and would become, to some extent at least, an instrument of good. To 
meet as far as may be the existing want in this direction we have commenced the 
publication of the Granite Monthly. We shall make it peculiarly a Xew Hamp- 
shire Magazine, and we hope, by devoting our own best efforts to the work, and by 
the assistance and co-operation of able writers, and sympathizing friends of the 
enterprize, to make it worthy the consideration and patronage of the reading pub- 
lic in our State, and especially of those who cherish that laudable sentiment of 
State pride which is keenly alive to every thing touching the honor, prosperity and 
progress of Xew Hampshire, as illustrated in the successful achievements of her 
children in every field of effort or enterprise. If we shall succeed in strengthening 
in the hearts of any of our people that sentiment to which we allude, or in contrib- 
i^g in any way to the material prosperity of the State, through the instruction or 
entertainment of its children, we shall have found our reward and be abundantly 


< J 


Fifty years ago the gubernatorial chair 
of the State was occupied by one of its 
most distinguished citizens, a native and 
resident of the old town of Epping — 
Y\ T illiam Pluiner — a man of marked abil- 
ity, who had represented Xew Hamp- 
shire in the Federal Senate with honor to 
himself and ci edit to the State. A few 
weeks since our people, in their sover- 
reigu capacity, made choice of another 
native and resident of Epping to suc- 
ceed Governor Cheney, as their Chief 
Magistrate, in June next. 

Benjamin F. Pkescott, Governor- 
elect, is the son and only child of Nathan 
Gove Prescott — a descendant of Capt. 
Jonathan Prescott who fought with Pep- 

perell at the siege of Louisburg — an Ep- 
ping farmer who married Miss Betsey H. 
Richards, daughter of Capt. Benjamin 
Richards of Madbury. The Prescott 
homestead, where the Governor-elect was 
born on the 26th of February, 1S33, is 
situated something more than a mile to 
the north west of the pleasant little vil- 
lage of Epping Corner, and less tban a 
mile from the Plumer mansion. Here 
young Prescott passed his life, until 
about fifteen years of age. in daily labor 
upon the farm, with the exception of the 
time occupied in attending the brief terms 
of the district school, developing by hon- 
est toil the superior physical powers with 
which he was endowed, and laying the 


foundation for that robust manhood, 
without which, complete success is al- 
most unattainable in every department 
of human labor. 

The first mental training, outside the 
district school, of which he secured the 
advantage, was afforded by a private 
school at the village, under the tuition of 
Samuel H. Worcester, who subsequently 
became a noted teacher, and is now a well 
known physician of Salem, Mass. After 
this he attended several terms at the Blau- 
chard Academy in Pembroke and in the fail 
of 1850 he entered the preparatory course 
at Phillips Academy, Exeter, a year 
in advance, remaining three full years, so 
that in the fall of 1850, he was enabled to 
enter the Sophomore class at Dartmouth, 
where be graduated with honor in 1859. 
Among Ills class mates at Exeter was 
Jeremiah Smith of Dover, subsequently 
an Associate Justice of the Supreme Ju- 
dicial Court, and among the same at 
Dartmouth were F. D.Ayer now pastor of 
the North Church at Concord, Sullivan 
M. Cutcheon, late Speaker of the 3Iichi- 
gan Ilouse of Representatives, and Ly- 
man G. Hinckley of Chelsea, Vt., subse- 
quently Lieutenant Governor of that 
State. While at Dartmouth he was a 
meED.ber.and at one time president, of the 
United Fraternity literary society, and at 
Exeter he was a member of the Golden 
Branch society in which he occupied the 
position of president and orator. 

Soon after his graduation Mr. Prescott 
entered the office of H. A. & A. H. Bel- 
lows, at Concord, as a student at law, 
where he diligently pursued his studies 
until 1859, when he was admitted to the 
Merrimack County bar and commenced 
the practice of the profession, which he 
continued at Concord for about two 
years. In 1SG1, upon the appointment of 
Hon. George G. Fogg, editor of the In- 
dependent Democrat. as Minister to Swit- 
zerland, he was offered the position of 
associate editor of the paper, which he 
accepted, remaining with Mr. Hadley, in 
charge of the paper until Mr. Fogg's re- 
turn from Europe in 186G. The period 
of his editorial service covered that of the 
war of the Rebellion, and the develop- 
ment of the reconstruction policy of 
Congress, and the vigorous support 

which the Independent Democrat gave 
President Lincoln aud the measures of 
the Administration party was due in no 
small degree to the earnest nature and 
forcible pen of Mr. Prescott. During the 
latter part of Lincoln's administration he 
received an appointment as Special 
.Agent of the Treasury, which position 
he held until the change of policy under 
President Johnson,when he was removed 
and Harry Bingham of Littleton ap- 
pointed in his stead. Subsequently he 
held the same position for a time under 
President Grant. After the death of his 
father in 1S6G, Mr. Prescott devoted 
much of his time and labor to the im- 
provement of the old homestead at Ep- 
ping, which thereupon came into his pos- 
session, though retaining his voting res- 
idence in Concord until some three or 
four years since. In 1S72 he was chosen 
by the Legislature, Secretary of State, 
and was re-elected the. following year, as 
he was in 1875 and 1876, holding the po- 
sition at the present time. Through his 
long incumbency in this office he has not 
only become intimately acquainted with 
the leading men of both parties in all 
sections of the State.but has also acquired 
a thorough understanding of public af- 
fairs, which qualifies him in an eminent 
degree for the discharge of the duties of 
the Executive office, which he is to as- 
sume next June. Moreover, it will not, 
we trust, be improper to remark in this 
connection, that, in all his relations with 
the public in the performance of his duty 
as Secretary of State, he has given the 
highest degree of satisfaction to men of 
all parties, and his unfailing courtesy, as 
well as faithful attention to duty, has un- 
questionably drawn to his support some, 
who, had any other individual been the^ 
candidate in his stead, would have given 
their votes to the opposite party. 

As is well known to many, Mr. Pres- 
cott has a decided taste for historical and 
antiquarian research, which he has in- 
dulged in no small degree. He has long 
been an active member of the New Hamp- 
shire Historical Society, and is now First 
Vice President of that association. He 
is also a member and Vice President of 
the New Hampshire Antiquarian Society 
which, although established but a few 


years since, has, under its earnest and 
vigorous management, already acquired 
anhonoiable position among kindred as- 
sociations, and has at its headquarters at 
Contoocookville a rare and extensive col- 
lection of antiquities. About a year ago 
Mr. Prescott was made a member of the 
Royal Historical Society of Londou. an 
honor which no other citizen of Xew 
Hampshire enjoys. The attention of the 
Society having been attracted to him. un- 
doubtedly, through his extensive corres- 
pondence with officers and members, 
while engaged in the work of securing 
for the State the portraits of those who 
figured conspicuously in its early history, 
which, together with those of the celeb- 
rities of later years, most of which were 
also obtained through his instrumental- 
ity, constitute a collection of rare interest 
and great historical value. In making 
this collection for the State House, Mr. 
Prescott has labored with a disinter- 
rested perseverance seldom equalled, 
overcoming serious obstacles in many in- 
stances, and the success which has 
crowned his efforts, while a source of 
honest pride to every citizen of the State, 
has redounded to his own credit and the 
esteem in which he is held by the public. 

As we have said, Mr. Prescott has 
spent much time and labor upon his 
farm, bringing it under a superior state of 
cultivation. He has added largely to the 
original homestead, and has now about 
three hundred acres of land, making, al- 
together, one of the largest, as it is one 
of the best, farms in the town. Its 
chief products are fruit, corn, hay and 
neat stock. Of the former, several hun- 
dred barrels of choice varieties are pro- 
duced annually. When at home Mr. 
Prescott is, even now, often found in the 
field or the woods at work with the men, 
and few there are who can compete with 
him in any branch of farm labor. His 
love of Agriculture and practical knowl- 
edge of its requirements fits him in a 
high degree for the position to which* he 
was appointed by Gov. Weston in lS74as 
a member of the Board of Trustees of 
the State Agricultural College. 

Upon the same spot occupied by the 
old family dwelling, Mr. Prescott erected 
in 1875, an elegant modern residence, 

which is thoroughly and tastefully fin- 
ished throughout, and furnished in a cor- 
responding manner, with an aim to gen- 
uine home comfort and a certain degree 
of luxury. A choice library, rare paint- 
ings, curiosities and relics, gratify and 
illustrate the taste of the owner, and all 
the surroundings are pervaded with an 
air of refinement and prosperity seldom' 
witnessed, yet most delightful to contem- 
plate. The locality itself is one of the 
most pleasant and picturesque to be 
found in the region. In short, every- 
thing combines to make the home of the 
Governor-elect the abode of comfort and 
true enjoyment. Here his accomplished 
wife, formerly Miss Mary L. Xoyes, 
daughter of Jefferson Xoyes, Esq., of 
Concord, with whom he was united in 
June, 1SG9, presides with true womanly 
dignity and grace, while his beloved 
mother, whose devoted affection for her 
only child is fittingly supplemented by 
her just pride in his successful career, is 
a cherished member of the household. 

Mr. Prescott is of commanding person- 
al appearance, standing about six feet in 
height, with a large frame and full de- 
velopment. He has a fresh and ruddy 
complexion, showing the free circulation 
that conies of perfect bodily health. His 
clear hazel eyes look you frankly in the 
face, while his dark hair and beard, which 
he wears full but well trimmed, are ting- 
ed with gray. His mental organization 
is as. fresh and vigorous as his physical, 
with a marked development of the per- 
ceptive powers, giving him the ready 
judgment of men, which has contributed 
in no small degree to his success. In his 
manners he is thoroughly democratic, 
meeting all as equals, and with a charm- 
ing courtesy which puts one immediately 
at ease, and his popularit}^ in the social 
circle is as great as in public life. In re- 
ligion, while his sympathies are with 
what is known as the liberal element, he 
contributes alike to the support of the 
different denominations in his town. 

Just ill the prime and vigor of life, and 
having attained a distinction which few 
at his age have reached, our Governor- 
elect may consistently look forward to a 
lengthy future career of honor and use- 




No bells, bonfires nor cannon an- 
nounced the arrival of the little barque 
which sailed up the "deep waters" of the 
Piseataquaek in 1G23, and landed on Odi- 
orne's Point, the founders of a new State. 
Tradition does not repeat nor history re- 
cord the name of the ship nor of the cap- 
tain who commanded it. The Mayflower 
and the men who landed on Plymouth 
Rock, in 1G20, are as famous in history 
as Jason and his associates, who sought 
the Golden Fleece. are in ancient mythol- 
ogy. New England men never wear}' of 
eulogies of forefathers* day; and they 
will, probably, never cease to commem- 
orate the horoism and piety of those forty- 
luo god-fearing men, who signed the 
first written constitution known to hu- 
man history. Still, the Plymouth Colo- 
ny, by itself, wrought no nobler or bet- 
ter work for mankind than the unnoticed, 
almost unnamed colonists who founded 
New Hampshire. Massachusetts Bay set- 
tlers, the Puritans, eclipsed the humbler 
efforts of the Pilgrims at Plymouth. The 
Pilgrims bore the sufferings of exile, pri- 
vation and toil; but the Puritans at a 
later date appropriated the fame and 
the honor which rose from the laws, 
government and institutions of Massa- 
chusetts. Capt. John Mason, the Propri- 
etor of New Hampshire, sent over fifty 
Englishmen and twenty-two women, be- 
sides eight Danes who were employed in 
sawing lumber and making potash. This 
number exceeded that of the Mayflower. 
It is not probable that all these men and 
women came in the first ship. Many of 
them arrived several years after the first 
company of planters occupied Odiorne*s 
Point. There is no reason to suppose 
that many women, possibly not one, 
came in 1G23. Some writers suppose that 
the Hiltons and a few other leading men 
brought their wives with them. For, 
ten years after the first settlement, the 

letters of the proprietor and his agents in 
London, speak of sending the wives of 
some of the colonists or of supporting 
them, at the company's expense, athome. 
The very slow progress of the settle- 
ments at Cocheeo and Strawberry Bank 
show that the laborers were few; for 
ojdy three houses had been built, on the 
Bank in seven years, and only three in 
ten years, at the upper plantation. If 
families were united in these labors, six 
houses would scarcely suffice for eighty 
persons. Why were these colonists less 
renowned than the Pilgrims of Plymouth ? 
The previous history of the Pilgrims, 
their persecutions at home, and their res- 
idence in Holland made them famous. 
Religion occupied the thoughts of all 
Englishmen. The Pilgrims were exiles for 
conscience' sake; they suffered for the 
common liberties and rights of the whole 

The first settlers at Portsmouth and 
Dover were adventurers, bold, hardy, 
and resolute, like all pioneers who go into 
the wilderness to better their condition. 
Such is generally the character of em- 
igrants who found new states. Philoso- 
phers tell us that from the race, the epoch 
and the surroundings of a people, their 
future history may be accurately pre- 
dicted. Here then is a problem for the 
prophet's solution. The race is Saxon; 
the epoch is one of progress, enterprise, 
discovery and controversy, both with the 
pen and the sword. The surroundings 
are the wilderness before them and the 
ocean behind them. The soil is rugged ; 
the climate is severe. Tell me, then, 
thou boasting seer, what will be the fate 
of this handful of men, as destitute and 
helpless as though they had dropped upon 
the earth from some distant planet. Will 
they die of starvation, be devoured by 
wild beasts or be massacred by savages? 
By occupation, they were fishmongers, 


farmers and mechanics. "Their several 
businesses" assigned by their employers. 
were to fell the trees, till the soil, fish, 
hunt and mine. Incessant labor in these 
occupations failed to support them; and 
the proprietors were obliged to sink their 
fortunes in the abyss of debt which these 
plantations opened. John Mason, who 
was a man of mark, and would have 
been distinguished in any age. was 
financially ruined; but like Phaeton, 
guiding the chariot of the sun, he fell 
from great undertakings. lustead of 
securing coronets and mitres for his pos- 
terity he died the victim of disappointed 

hopes : 

"Xo son of his succeeding." 

The men he hired to plant his colony 
had not sufficient education, religion nor 
integrity to make them true to their trust. 
That they were illiterate, appears from 
the fact that many of them could not 
write their names. So little is said of 
their religion that, it may be presumed 
they had none to speak of. They did not 
attempt to gather a church, at Dover, 
till 163S. Then, they were broken up by 
quarrels, and some of their early clergy- 
men were fitter for the penitentiary than 
the pulpit. At Portsmouth, no provision 
was made for preaching till 1640, when a 
Glebe of fifty acres was granted for the 
support of an Episcopal chapel; and 
Richard Gibson was the first incumbent. 
The first Congregational church was 
formed much later. The founders of 
Exeter and Hampton were led by clergy- 
men, and churches sprang up with the 
towns themselves. That the servants of 
Mr. Mason were dishonest appears from 
the fact that, after his death, they plun- 
dered his estate, drove away his cattle 
that he had imported at great expense, 
and sold them in Boston for twenty-five 
pounds sterling a head, and appropriated 
his goods. There wa3 no local govern- 
ment sufficiently powerful to punish 
great crimes ; while the proprietor ruled 
through agents, factors and superintend- 

ents, there was little restraint over ser- 
vants but the personal influence of the 
so called governors. The laborers were 
the "hired men" of the proprietor who 
lived three thousand miles away. They 
were neither masters of their time, their 
labor, nor of its rewards. If the value 
cf plantations and mills was enhanced, 
the profit was not for them. They 
neither owned the premises where they 
worked, nor shared the gains nor losses 
that resulted from their labors. When 
they became free-holders, and made com- 
pacts or "combinations" for the better 
government of the plantations, and the 
more certain punishment of crimes, the 
stimulus of property, liberty and suffrage 
elevated the laborers, and fitted them to 
do, dare and sutler more than any other 
Xew England Colony. The people of 
Portsmouth formed a political compact 
as early as 1633, but it gained from the 
crown no authority to make laws or pun- 
ish offenders. Dr. Belknap says, that, 
till 1640, the people of Dover and Ports- 
mouth had no power of government del- 
egated from the King. At that time, they 
formed themselves into a body politic as 
the people of Exeter had done the year 
before. The next year, 1641, all the four 
plantations formed a union with Massa- 
chusetts. and voluntarily submitted to 
her jurisdiction. They were allowed 
peculiar privileges, for in 1642, the fol- 
lowing decree was passed by the General 
Court of Massachusetts : "It is ordered 
that all the present inhabitants of Piscat- 
aquack, who formerly were free there, 
shall have liberty of freemen in their 
several towns to manage all their town 
affairs, and each town [shall] send a 
deputy to the General Court, though they 
be not church members.''' From this date 
the laws, usages and customs of the 
larger colony became the inheritance of 
the smaller; and the union which con- 
tinued for thirty-nine years, %\as ,: a con- 
summation devoutly to be wished," by 
both the high contracting parties. 




1 'Marry that old man! Never! I'll 
starve first. He may foreclose the mort- 
gage and turn us out doors as soon as 
he pleases to, but I will never be his wife, 
never !" 

"Heavens and airth, child, who you 
talking about? You don't say Peter 
Greenleaf wants you for a wife, do you?" 

"I don't say any thing about it, Aunt 
Jane. Where in the world did you come 
from? I am glad to see you, but I didn't 
know there was any body to hear me. 
Don't tell, Aunt Jane." 

"I won't" replied the unexpected visi- 
tor. "Don't you be afraid. I've kept a 
good many secrets in my day, and I'll 
keep yours. I come over this morning a 
purpose to talk with you and see if I 
couldn't help you. If I only had the 
money, I'd pay up that mortgage and 
done with it. Then, the old man might 
whistle. 'Spose your grandma'am could 
not help doin as she did, but 'twas a 
master pity." 

"She would have paid part of it before 
now, if Regis hadn't been sick and the 
cow died. She talked about it only a 
few days before she died, and told me 
if she left us suddenly, I must do the 
best I could. She said there was a letter 
in the little bureau that would explain 
all about the mortgage, but I haven't 
wanted to read it yet. I can pay part of 
the interest by winter, but Mr. Green- 
leaf says he must have the whole, and I 
cau't pay the whole." 

"Well, child, don't give up. It's been 
awful discouragin' weather, dark days 
and heavy fogs, and every thing all 
damped through; but 'taint always "goin 
to be so. We've got to have Indian Sum- 
mer, yit. Your grandma'am was a 
curous manager; else she'd never made 
po much out of five acres of pasture land 
and an old sheep barn. That was all 
there was here when she bought it, and 
now, there ain't no land in town that 
gives better crops ; and there ain't no 

house that's more comfortable. Pve 
wished a good many times, I had her 
faculty; but I hain't, though I'm reck- 
oned tolable for plannin'. "Where's 

"At work for Mr. Beman." 

"He's a smart boy." 

"Yes, he is, and a good boy, too. If 
he was older we could do better." 

"Yes, but he'll grow old fast enough. 
He's twelve and you're eighteen, and 
you two are left without a blood relation 
in the world nigher than a second cousin. 
That's what your grandma'am] told me 
the last time I see her 'fore she died so 
sudden. I can't make the way clear, all 
through, but don't you marry a man you 
don't want to. That's the worst thing a 
woman can do, and there's always a 
curse follows it. I married a poor man, 
and I ain't goin' to say he wa'nt shif- 
less, for he was, and everybody knew it ; 
but I loved him and he loved me, and so 
I could put up with his ways, though 
they wan't just what they ought to be. 
When John and I was together, we never 
felt as though we wished somebody else 
was in either of our places. I wouldn't 
advise you nor anybody else to marry a 
shitless man ; but I did, and I never was 
sorry. Peter Greenleaf's wife didn't 
have a poor man nor a shitless man, but 
she had a harder time than I did ; and I 
hope if he marries again, he'll get some- 
body that'll stand up for her rights. 
There he is. sure's you're alive, comin' 
over the hill. Want me to git out of 

"Perhaps it would be best, but please 
don't leave the house." 

"I won't, and don't you be afraid. 
Manage to make him say if the interest's 
paid, he'll wait for the rest. He thinks 
you'd make a purty piece of household 
furnitur, and some way he got a grudge 
against your gran'ma'am. I misdoubted 
how t'would turn out, when I knew she 
got the i money of him; but the Lord 
reigns, and^there can't nobody hinder his 



People wondered why Mrs. Bradshaw 
mortgaged her place, while she alone 
knew that to save her grand-children 
from their father she had sent him a stip- 
ulated sum of money, which might have 
purchased but temporary safety had not 
death claimed him and so relieved her of 
further anxiety. 

In her thankfulness for thislnercy she 
thought comparatively little of the obli- 
gation she had incurred, although her 
family arrangements were made with 
reference to the liquidation of the debt. 
She lived even more frugally than be- 
fore; but sickness and other untoward 
events had made it impossible for her to 
do this. For three years not even the 
interest had been paid, and now the 
amount saved for this purpose was hard- 
ly sufficient to pay the funeral expenses. 

Elsie Dunlap found herself sole heir 
of an encumbered estate which, if sold 
under the hammer, would leave her pen- 
niless. She was energetic, and capable. 
She possessed a strong will and much 
force of character; but, for the time she 
was nearly paralyzed by the sudden blow 
which had fallen upon her. Xow, Aunt 
Jane's presence and homely counsel had 
done so much to reassure her, that she 
met Mr. Greenleaf with becoming dig- 

"My dear Elsie, how charmingly you 
are looking," he said blandly, "I could 
not den}- myself the pleasure of coming 
early. I am to be out of town for a few 
days, and I thought it would be pleasant 
for us both to have everything definitely 
arranged between us. You will k have no 
further trouble about the mortgage, and 
I — t shall have a fair and happy bride." 

"What do you mean," now asked the 
young girl, recovering from her surprise 
at his audacity. 

"You know what I mean, my dear," 
he replied with a smirk, which was in- 
tended to be a smile. "I did not expect 
you to accept my proposal at once. 
Perhaps I should have thought you 
wanting in maidenly modesty, if you 
had ; but now you have had time for con- 
sideration, and I am impatient for your 
final answer." 

"I am too young to marry," she said 
hesitatingly, remembering the charge 

she had received from Aunt Jane. "I 
am not sure I understand fully about the 
mortgage. Please tell me the exact 
amount of your claim upon my estate, and 
the terms by which I cau retain it." 

"It is a waste of words, my dear, but 
I wish to please you ;" and he proceeded 
to give her the desired information, even 
yielding to her request to make the state- 
ment in writing. 

She read it, thanked him, and placed 
the paper in her pocket, saying: "I 
think I can pay the interest before the 
first of December ; and if I do, I can still 
remain here." 

"If the taxes are paid. In order to se- 
cure myself and save you all annoyance, 
I have paid them. You see I have re- 
gard for your interests. You will give 
me the promise I desire, Elsie?" and he 
rose from the chair in which he was sit- 
ting, as though he would go nearer to 

"What promise?" she asked, springing 
to her feet. 

"The promise that you will be my 
wife. You shall have everything that 
heart can wish. I will surround you 
with luxury and make your life a long 
holiday. As my wife, you will not need 
to work, or calculate how money is to be 

"But your wife did work," responded 
Elsie with provoking coolness. "I have 
always heard that she worked hard and 
never had a cent of money to spend with- 
out being called to account for it. I am 
too independent for that." 

What Peter Greenleaf thought my 
readers may imagine. What he said 
was : 

"When my wife was living. I was a 
poorer man than I am now. She was a 
worthy woman, but we were not alto- 
gether congenial. In a second marriage 
I should hope to realize what was denied 
me in the first." 

There was an expression of scorn upon 
the rosy lips of Elsie Dunlap, and a flash- 
ing of the dark eyes which boded ill to 
her suitor. 

"Have a care, my dear," he said in 
well modulated tones. "You have other 
debts and other debtors. I must be your 
husband or your enemy. You can choose 


which it shall be, but I shall not take 
your answer row. I never yield when I 
have reached a decision. Think of Regis. 
Can you bear to be separated from him?" 

He was gone, but before she had time 
to think of Regis, Aunt Jane appeared, and 
watching him as he rode away, expressed 
her satisfaction with what had trans- 

"You done well," she said heartily. 
l, He didn't know you had a witness hid 
away, but when he began to talk, I give 
the bed room door a hitch, so I could see 
him, and hear all he said, too. I've faith 
the interest*!! be paid somehow, and he's 
promised to wait for the rest. But about 
them taxes and debts. I'll find out. 
He'd scare some girls into marryin' him. 
He's got most everybody in town under 
his thumb, except Aunt Jane and the 
minister and Cam Bassett. He come 
pretty near getting a hitch on my house, 
but he just missed it. I'll see, I'll see. 
Don't give up. He won't be back to-day 
nor to-morrer." 

"I hope not. Don't go now. Aunt 

"I must, child. I've got a message for 
the minister, though I must look round 
'fore I see him. Good bye." 

Then was Elsie's hour of weak- 
ness, and she wept despairingly. She 
seemed hedged in on every side. She 
was in the power of a merciless man, 
and yet he professed to love her: prom- 
ised to provide for her brother and re- 
lieve her of all care. Others had sacri- 
ficed themselves and still lived on. Driv- 
en from their home, where could they 
go? She. could earn a little by knitting 
and sewing: Regis could earn a little 
more ; but there was the mortgage. 

"What's goin' to be done for them 
Dunlap children?'' asked Aunt Jane ab- 
ruptly, when she found the minister 
standing by the parsonage gate. 

"I heard they were provided for by 
Mr. Greenleaf." 

"•There ain't no truth in that, Mr. Eld- 
ridge. I know all about it. and I'll tell 
you. I had it first hand, too, so there 
won't be no mistake." 

The minister listened patiently, utter- 
ing now and then an ejaculation of sur- 
prise or indignation. 

"Xow, if you'll pray for light, and 
ways and means, 'twill be your share, 
and I'll see what I can do. If yon had 
money, I know you'd .give it, but Chore 
ain't nothing required of folks more'n 
they've got. Pray hard, for it's a rough 
place to pull over when Peter Greenleaf s 
hitched on his oxen to pull tother way.*' 

"Stay to dinner and perhaps some light 
will shine upon the darkness," said the 
minister, pleasantly, as his companion 
turned to leave him. 

"No, thank you, that an't the way 
light's comin', and I've got my dinner 
waitiu' to home." 

That day Elsie Dunlap read the letter 
of which her grandmother had told her, 
and from it learned much she had not 
before known ; much. too. which grieved 
and saddened her. 

"If I leave you with the mortgage un- 
paid you must do the best you can. I 
can not advise you, only don't trust Mr. 
Greenleaf, and don't let Regis go away 
from you. If the worst comes, perhaps 
Aunt Jane will take you in, and you can 
manage to feed and clothe yourselves. 
But don't trust Peter Greenleaf. I was 
obliged to go to him for money, but you 
will be under no such necessity." 

These were the closing paragraphs of 
a letter which had for her the authority 
of a voice from the dead, and she re- 
peated the declaration made in the open- 
ing of my story. Early in the evening. 
Regis came, tired, but so glad to be at 
home that he soon forgot his fatigue. 

"How much money have we got?"' he 
asked looking up into his sister's face." 

"Not a dollar," she replied. 

"I shall have a dollar to-morrow night, 
so there'll be one in the house, and we 
must keep it till we get a mate to it. 
We've got lots of potatoes and corn, and 
hay enough to keep the cow. so we 
shan't starve if we don't buy any thing 
at the store; and you can mend up my 
clothes so they'll last. Then -we can sell 
th? pig and some chickens, and a tub of 
butter, and that'll bring some money. 
We must pay up the mortgage. Mrs. 
Beman says Mr. Greenleaf wants you to 
marry him, and I told her you just wouldn't 
do it, will 3-011?" 

"Xo, I will not." 



"There, I knew you wouldn't, for all 
she said there wan't many poor girls that 
had such a chance. We don't care if we 
are poor, do we?" 

u "We will try not to care. Now tell 
me what you have been doiug to-day, 
and what company you have had." 

"I didn't have anybody but Cam Bas- 
sett to work with me, and he didn't talk 
much, though he worked like a house-a- 
fire. He's growing handsome and I like 
hini. He said grandmother was his best 
friend. I didn't know that before, did 

"No, indeed, but she was a friend to 
every one. I am glad he remembers her 

"So am I. After dinner, he asked me 
if I thought you'd ever marry Mr. Green- 
leaf.aud I told him I knew you wouldn't, 
any sooner than you'd marry him, and I 
guessed not half so soon." 

u \Yhy, Regis;"' and a blush suffused 
the sister's cheek, which he did not see. 

Mr. Eldriclgehad fulfilled his promise 
to pray for his young parishioners, and 
waited for some token that his prayers 
had been heard, when Cameron Bassett 
was shown into his study. 

"I don't see you very often," he said, 
in a tone which expressed the surprise 
he felt at receiving so unexpected a 

"No, sir, but I thought 'twas right for 
me to come, because I could trust you 
not to tell." 

"Not to tell what, my young friend ?" 
After looking a moment into the clergy- 
man's face, as if to assure himself that 
his confidence was not misplaced, the 
visitor proceeded to make known his 
business with a straight-forward earnest- 
nestness one could hardl}- have believed 
possible to him. 

Five years before he had drifted into 
the quiet country town, a poor, ignorant 
boy. Since then, he had done the hard- 
est, coarsest work uncomplainingly, yet 
always stipulating for wages which were 
so faithfully earned, that they could not 
be refused. He was kind and obliging, 
but few thought of him except when 
present, and then only as of a servant. 

"1 don't know why I came here, only 
I happened to," be said in reply to a 

question asked by Mr. Eldridge. "I fol- 
lowed the river, and when I got opposite 
Mrs. Bradshaw's, I was so hungry, I 
went, up to the house and asked her to 
give me something to eat and let me 
work and pay for it. She did, and talked 
to me besides, and the talk was better 
than the bread and milk. She told me 
what I could do if I tried, and I've tried 
ever since. I couldn't go to school and 
meeting like other boys, but I've doue 
the best I kuew how. I've saved some 
money, and I want you to take itaudpoy 
Mr. Greenleaf on that mortgage as far as 
'twill go, until I can earn some more to 
finish up. Will you do it, sir?" 

"I am not sure that I ought to. You 
need this money tor yourself. You saved 
it for a special purpose." 

"'Yes, sir, I saved it to buy a piece of 
land, but I can wait for that, I ain't too 
old to start again." 

"But Elsie might object to your doing 


••I'm afraid she would, but you see, she 
ain't to know it. That's why I come to 
you, because I thought you wouldn't tell. 
They've all done me more than that 
worth good. I don't think I'd ever had 
the money but for what Mrs. Bradshaw 
said to me ; so in a way, it belongs to 
her, and that mortgage must be paid. 
It must, Mr. Eldridge." 

"It shall be paid, every dollar of it. I 
will try to raise what is lacking of the 
full amount and consider you my debtor 
for the balance." 

"Yes, sir, do, and I will bring you the 
money as fast as I earn it. You can trust 
me. I always do as I say." 

"I believe you, and shall be glad to see 
you, even if you have no money to 

"Thank you," and as the young man 
thus acknowledged the courtesy of his 
host, his eyes wandered to a plain book 
case filled to overflowing. 

"Do you care for books?" was asked. 

"Yes, sir, more than I care for anything 
else. When I came here, I only knew 
the letters, but I've learned since." 

"What have you learned?" 

"All I could. I bought an old arith- 
metic and I've been through it. It was 
hard work; but I kept at it, till I fin- 



ished up every sum. I bought a gram- 
mar, too, and a geography.'"' 

"Have you studied alone?" 

"Yes. sir, there wan't any other way 
for me. ;i 

l, Do you read books?*' 

"Yes, sir. all I can get; and Cameron 
Bassett forgot his usual reserve, as he 
was led to speak of the hopes and desires 
which had made him what he was. "You 
see, sir, I had it all to do myself, except 
what Mrs. Bradshaw helped me. She 
didn't know how much I owed her. I 
uever told her. I meant to, but I didn't. 
When she died I was sorry I hadn't. I 
wish she knew." 

"Perhaps she does know. God knows, 
and he is the one most interested. Do 
you read the Bible?" 

"Yes, sir, the first book I ever read 
was a Testament Mrs. Bradshaw gave 
me. She said 'twas best of all." 

u But you have never come to hear the 
preaching and praying and singing Sun- 

"Ho, sir, perhaps I don't rightly un- 
derstand about it. Sunday was my rest- 
ing and studjing day, and there didn't 
anybody ask me to go to meeting." 

"May God forgive us," ejaculated the 
clergyman fervently. "Let me help you 
now. You are welcome to the use of 
any of my books, and I shall be glad to 
give you any assistance in my power. 
What books have you read?" 

11 Pve read about Hugh Miller, and I 
thought I had as good a chance for learn- 
ing as he had." 

" You have, and I hope you will be as 
grand and famous as he was." 

" I don't expect that. He had more 
that belonged to him ;" and the young 
man tapped his forehead with his finger. 
" But I'll do what I can. If you'll allow 
me to take a book, I will, sir." 

A book was selected, a few parting 
words exchanged; and Mr, Eldridge sat 
down to reflect upon the strange occur- 
rences of the day. He was both depress- 
ed and encouraged; while he felt con- 
demned for his neglect of one whom an- 
other had remembered. He counted 
K£ the money left in his keeping; 

counted also the cost at which he could 
supply the amount required to balance 
.the mortgage. He must wear a thread- 
bare coat still longer, and den}- himself 
the purchase of some much coveted 
books; yet he did not regret his decision. 

The next day Aunt Jane appeared 
bringing her small hoard which, howev- 
er, was not needed. 

" Then I'll lend it to Elsie to pay up on 
the taxes, and she can make out the 
money to pay me back fore winter's 
through." said the good woman, joyous- 
l} r . "It's all come round just right. 
But you hain't told me how you got the 
money to pay up the mortgage, nor how 
you calkerlate it's goiu' to be paid back." 

" I have made no calculations in regard 
to that, and you must excuse me if I de- 
cline telling you anything further about 

"I will; aud on [the whole I don't 
want you to. I'll just think the Lord 
done it, and thank him for my ignorance. 
There's good things happenin' ail round. 
I'm goin' to have somebody to be in the 
house with Die nights this winter, so 
'twill seem more like livin', and then 
there'll be somebody to do for. I guess 
my neighbors'll come in for a share of 
help. There's helpful and on-helpful 
times, Mr. Eldridge, and it's likely to me 
we've had on-helpful ones long enough 
for just now. Peter Greenleaf s gone, so 
you'll have to wait for him to come back ; 
but there won't be no harm done while 
he's gone. He's missed his calculations 

Possibly he feared this ; for he remain- 
ed away but two days, and on his return 
went directly to the cottage of Elsie Dun- 
lap, fully resolved not to leave it until he 
had obtained her promise to marry him 
the following week. He was not to be 
thwarted by a young girl's caprice, and, 
moreover, he fancied that he really lov- 
ed his fair debtor. He carried with him 
a gift, which it is but justice to say would 
have propitiated many disposed to be un- 
relenting; yet he experienced some em- 
barrassment when he found himself in 
her presence. 





This venerable institution is one of the 
oldest nurseries of classical education in 
America. It was founded in 17S3 by Dr. 
John Phillips, a merchant of Exeter. in 
the days when that town was a business 
. centre and the shipment of heavy goods 
was by water, in vessels of a few hun- 
dred tons burden. Dr. Phillips, having 
amassed a considerable fortune, seems to 
have determined on the perpetuation of 
the family name, not especially to grat- 
ify family pride, but to confer a lasting 
blessing on a posterity ever ready to ac- 
knowledge its obligations to the world's 
benefactors. It should be remembered 
that the Exeter of that day was cmite as 
important a town relatively, as it is now. 
There the Colonial Legislature held its 
sessions in common with its wealthier 
neighbor Portsmouth : there dwelt mem- 
bers of the Colonial Congress and there 
resided the Gilmans and others, after- 
wards Congressmen and Governors of 
the State. A hundred years since. Ports- 
mouth, Dover and Exeter were the towns 
of the Province of Xew Hampshire. 
Though the thought of Dr. Phillips can 
not be read, he doubtless imagined Exe- 
ter to gradually grow in importance as 
an inland town and that, his Academy 
would flourish with its growth, not 
dreaming that railroads, half a century 
later, without destroying old land marks 
or degrading the venerable dignity of 
what the fathers had consecrated, would 
so change the currents of trade as to 
plant large cities far away from the sea- 
board and nearly annihilate the com- 
mercial importance of those dependent' 
on harbor and tide water. But so it is; 
and Exeter of to-day only contains double 
the number of inhabitants it did in 177G. 
Yet its natural beauty remains almost 
undisturbed. The Squamscott river is 
as placid and the falls above it awaken 
scarcely a new echo.while many of those 
incident to shipping died along its banks 

forty or fifty years since. A cotton mill 
by the river side and a machine shop and 
foundry near the depot, are the princi- 
pal manufactories, and which occupy the 
place of corn mills, saw mills and a few 
tanneries. The latter, in active oper- 
ation, with shipping, ship-building and 
country trade, were the foundation of 
prosperity and wealth one hundred years 
ago. It was the fortune of Dr. Phillips 
to endow an institution more lasting than 
all of these, and the fortune of posterity 
to reap the manifold results of such a 
beneficent endowment. It appears by 
the catalogue of 17S3 that 56 students at- 
tended and of these, 38 belonged to Exe- 
ter. This would indicate that no mod- 
ern advertising was resorted to in order 
to swell the number of pupils, and the 
inference is clear that Exeter and sur- 
rounding towns might have regarded the 
Academy as peculiarly theirs. A further 
and closer examination of catalogues 
shows us that the tree planted by Dr. 
Phillips bore such goodly fruit that it 
was plucked with avidity by dwellers in 
the several States of the Union and by 
many in foreign lands. As early as 1785, 
there was one student from the West 
Indies. Before the year 1S00, a dozen 
had attended from the West Indies; and 
other States besides 2sew Hampshire, 
-were well represented. The number at- 
tending to April, 1S69 was 3.855. This 
number must have increased to nearly 

The list of Principals is wonderfully 
short. Only three names appear. Dr. 
Benjamin Abbott, Dr. Gideon L. Soule, 
and Albert C. Perkins. A. M . The labors 
of Dr. Abbott and Dr. Soule cover more 
than three-fourths of a century of indefa- 
tigable toil and unremitting aid to those 
climbing the hill of science. Dr. Abbott 
was Principal of the Academy from 1788 
to 1838, just half a century. Dr. Soule 
having been already associated with Dr. 

Abbott for about seventeen years, was 
elected Principal in 1S3S and held the po- 
sition until 'the election of the present 
Principal in 1S73. The success, the fame 
and the lasting reputation of the school 
is largely attributable to the efforts of 
these venerable instructors. Dr. Soule is- 
still living in Exeter, though somewhat 
enfeebled in mind and body. Fifty years 
each, in almost daily contact with the 
youthful mind, the virgin intellectual 
soil, wherein must be sown the germs of 
science, the seeds of truth, the harvest of 
which has been gathered by admiring 
countrymen who have borrowed wisdom 
from statesmen and instructors ! 

Dr. Abbott was remarkable for "dig- 
nity of character and suavity of mauners. 
He never met the youngest Academy 
scholar in the street without lifting his 
hat entirely from his head, as in courte- 
ous recognition of an equal; and an 
abashed and awkward attempt to return 
the compliment, was the urchin's first 
lesson in good manners and respect for 
his teacher. His government was always 
successful, because it was not in his na- 
ture to be stern or passionate ; and as he 
always allowed the offender time to de- 
liberate and become sorry for his fault, 
before sentence was pronounced, the 
punishment never seemed unjust, even to 
the culprit.* It was not strange, then, 
that he gained so strong a hold upon the 
love and respect of his pupils. To them 
he always appeared' as if surrounded by 
some invisible enclosure, which even the 
boldest could not overstep without a 
bowed head and a feeling almost of awe. 
Others maj- have been equally, or even 
more successful as mere teachers ; but in 
the general discipline of mind and char- 
acter, in exerting an influence upon the 
boy which continued through the subse- 
quent life of the man, no instructor ever 
surpassed him. It was a common re- 
mark among his pupils, that it was a 
shame to deceive Dr. Abbott or tell him 
a lie; and even if one ventured to do so 
*->e had a sort of uncomfortable con- 
sciousness that the Doctor had detected 
bini, but saw fit to overlook the offence 
and allow it to be its own punishment." 

These few words of eulogy are from 
the pen of Prof. Boweo, and the writer 


observes of Dr. Soule 


that u he has al- 
ways followed the spirit and principles 
of his [Dr. Abbott's] administration, 
even while introducing such changes and 
improvements as the progress of the age 
in the modes of teaching and in the 
range of scholarship rendered necessary."' 

And Prof. Peabody of Harvard College, 
in his address at the dedication of the 
new Academy building, June 19, 1S72, 
says of Dr. Soule; '"following his prede- 
cessor , with no unequal footseps, like 
him, he has reared for himself an endur- 
ing monument in the republic of letters, 
in the ripest scholarship of America." 

These, tributes to the ability, skill and 
sterling merit of these teachers are mod- 
est indeed, as their pupils who survive 
will bear witness. It has been remarked 
that "Dr. Abbott was remarkably fortu- 
nate in his pupils" and the observation 
may be considered a just one, when we 
mention the names of Lewis Cass, Daniel 
Webster, Leverett Saltonstall, Joseph 
G. Coggswell, Edward Everett, John A. 
Dix, John G. Palfrey, Jared Sparks, 
George Bancroft and others, eminent in 
learning and statesmanship, having been 
under his charge. "Webster was present 
and presided at the dinner given at the 
Abbott Festival in commemoration of 
Dr. Abbott's completion of his fiftieth 
year as Principal of the Academy. The 
meeting was remarkable and unprece- 
dented. Among those Who made speeches 
on the ocecasion, were, besides Webster, 
Everett, Palfrey, Saltonstall and John 
P. Hale. A valuable silver service was 
presented the Doctor. On this occasion 
one venerable man rose and said : "You 
were his scholars, I was his teacher. It 
was little that I had to impart, but that 
little was most cheerfully given, I well 
remember the promise he then gave; and 
Providence has been kind in placing him 
in just that position where his life could 
be most usefully and honorably spent." 
This speaker was Hon. Jeremiah Smith 
(father of Judge Jeremiah Smith, one of 
the present Board of Trustees) who had 
served two terms as Representative in 
Congress, was afterwards Chief Justice 
and Governor of New Hampshire. He 
subsequently resided in Dover, but, at 
his death his remains were interred at 



Exeter beside those of Dr. John Phillips, 
the Founder of the Academy. A few 
years since the remains of Dr. Phillips 
were removed to the "Xew Cemetery." 
When exhumed, at the distance of about 
70 years, the skull of Dr. Phillips was 
well preserved, as also that of his wife. 
The skull of Dr. Phillips was thin, par- 
ticularly in the regions known to phren- 
ologists, as "acquisitiveness" and ''be- 
nevolence'' and a remarkable develop- 
ment of both of those organs was appa- 
rent. He died April 21, 1795, in his sev- 
enty-sixth year. 

Justice requires the mention of William 
Woodbridge, A. B., who was inducted 
into office as Preceptor of the Academy, 
May 1, 17S3, with appropriate ceremo- 
nies. So far as is known he was a worthy 
teacher, but failing in health, he was 
succeeded by Dr. Abbott in 17SS. 

Two other teachers rendered invaluable 
assistance to Dr. Abbott. The first was 
Hosea Hildreth, Professor of Mathemat- 
ics for fourteen years, a man of "emi- 
nently robust mind, of iron will, of stren- 
uous purpose, of a stern integrity, and 
unflinching courage." The second was 
Joseph Gibson Hoyt, afterwards Chan- 
cellor of Washington University, St. 
Louis, Missouri. He was one of the fac- 
ulty for eighteen years. Prof. Peabody 
says of him, "of his clear thought, vivid 
fancy, versatile genius, perfect zeal in 
every worthy cause, incessant activity, 
unwearied assiduity and unexhausted 
kindness in every relation, as teacher, 
friend, neighbor, citizen, none who knew 
him need that I should tell." 

A sketch of Phillips Exeter Academy 
cannot be complete without a more ex- 
tended notice of its founder; indeed, a 
transcript of the life of Drs. Phillips and 
Abbott nearly completes the history of 
this classical school, until within a brief 
period. Dr. John Phillips was born in 
Andover, Mass., Dec. 27, 1719. His 
father was a clergyman. Dr. Phillips 
graduated at the early age of fifteen 
3'ears. Leaving college he taught school, 
meantime studying theology. He re- 
ceived a call from the First Church in 
Exeter, but was too modest or diffident 
to accept it, and subsequently engaged in 

rade in that town. Amassing a fortune 

and leaving no children, with simple 
tastes and habits and without covetous- 
ness, it seemed most natural and easy for 
him to give away large amounts for re- 
ligious and charitable purposes and be- 
queath the remaiuder for the furtherance 
of such objects. It was finely said of 
him that "without natural issue, he made 
posterity his heir." Cultivating the nat- 
ural gift of benevolence by frequent do- 
nations he finally became the George 
Peabody of his State if not of his coun- 
try. In conjunction with Judge Samuel 
Phillips of Andover. Mass.. he founded 
Phillips Academy at Andover in 1778, 
the darkest period of the Revolutionary 
war, Judge Phillips contributing $6000 
and Dr. Phillips contributing 831,000, 
about one third being bestowed at the 
outset and the other two thirds in 1790. 
Dr. Phillips was a Trustee of this insti- 
tution until his death. He also endowed 
a Professorship of Theology in Dart- 
mouth College and was a Trustee of that 
College for twenty years. He also made 
liberal gifts to Princeton College X.J. 

Dr. Phillips asked no aid in founding the 
Exeter Academy. He obtained a char- 
ter April 3, 1781. It is thus the oldest 
institution of learning established by 
State authority, Dartmouth College hav- 
ing been established by Royal grant 
in 17G9. By charter ail the property of 
the Academy is forever exempted from 
taxation. The entire management is 
vested in a Board of Trustees of not 
more than seven or less than four. They 
are empowered to remove the institution, 
if circumstances should render such a 
change desirable and establish it in a 
suitable place within the State. 

The Academy was not established solely 
to give instruction in the various blanches 
of secular learning ; it was solemnly ded- 
icated to the promotion of good manners, 
sound morality and pure religion. In 
the "Constitution and Laws" the Found- 
er says, "above all it is expected that the 
attention of instructors to the disposition 
of the mind? and morals of the youth 
under their charge will exceed every oth- 
er care." At the same time, Dr. Phil- 
lips' religious views were very liberal. 
Even Dr. Abbott held different theologi- 
cal opinions from its founder. Agreeable 



to these wishes expressed and under- 
stood, the school has never become a 
mere sectarian institution. One restric- 
tion however, is made, i. e. "Prot- 
estants only shall be in the Trust and in- 
struction of this seminary." 

It is difficult to ascertain the precise 
amount of the several endowments. 
Three times during life the founder 
made over considerable property to the 
Trustees. Five years after Dr. Phillips 
death it appears that the Trustees held 
058,880 in active funds, the Mansion 
house, [now occupied by Dr. Soule] the 
Academy buildings and grounds. Prob- 
ably the original endowments amounted 
to 865,000. In 1S72, the amount of funds 
was $125,000. The academy building 
being destroyed by fire in December, 
1S70, is was naturally supposed that a 
large portion of the fund must be used 
for the erection of the new edifice. A 
happy disappointment to such expecta- 
tions followed; donations for the new 
building delicately and modestly dropped 
into the Trustee's hands from members 
of the Alumni, who respected and rev- 
erenced the institution as the cradle of 
their after greatness and prosperity, un- 
til [with contributions from other bene- 
ficent sources] the sura swelled to S50,- 
000 or enough to complete the new acad- 
emy building. 

The academy building destroyed in 
1870 was erected in 1791 with the excep- 
tion of the u wings" which were afterwards 
added. The building originally used for 
the school and now occupied by D. W. 
Merrill as a dwelling, stood a little dis- 
tance westward of the present grounds, 
near the center of the village. It was 
two stories in height and built after the 
manner of the ;, square'' houses of those 
days. When the larger building was 
erected in 1794, the old structure was 
purchased by Daniel Kimball -and re- 
moved to the Plains (Kingston road) and 
fUted into a dwelling house. It has been 
owned successively by Mr. Kimball, 
Samuel Leavitt. John Gordon and B. L. 
Merrill, Esq. 

The present building is a handsome 
& i> f l durable Gothic edifice, constructed 
of the best materials and in the most ap- 

proved style of architecture, if improve- 
ment can be made on ancient models. 
The rooms are spacious, commodious and 
substantially though not gorgeously fur- 
nished. Paintings and portraits and 
busts of eminent men, grace, adorn and 
dignify the Hall, many of which are the 
contributions of former students. 

But whatever has been added within 
the last few years from the treasures of 
art to ennoble the soul or gratify an aes- 
thetic taste, the tone and discipline of 
the school has never been allowed to suf- 
fer; it has rather been elevated and in- 
tensified and to-day the school occupies a 
higher level and presents greater advan- 
tages than ever before. Contrast the 
Academy and its surroundings with the 
year of the opening. Then a small 
building, imperfectly ventilated except 
through chinks from imperfect carpentry, 
windows small and without shades and 
an open fire at one side of the room and 
insufficient for the wants of half the pu- 
pils; now all the modern appliances for 
light, warmth, comfort and culture. The 
grounds too, encircled with elms and 
maples, challenge admiration, whether 
clothed in vernal beauty or painted in 
sad but gorgeous autumnal dyes. The 
town changes are equally surprising. 
"Where once stood low storied dwellings 
without paint and half sufficient light, 
with a very few exceptions, we now find 
private residences, some of which are al- 
most of princely magnificence. Al- 
though the population has only doubled, 
the number of dwellings must have 
quadrupled. The public buildings are 
more noble and costly; churches and 
school-houses handsomer and better and 
the principal business street, within a 
few years has, at the hands of the capi- 
talist and artisan, changed from a sickly 
row of dilapidated shops to one of stately 
and substantial brick edifices. Were the 
land holder and stock holder of to-day 
interrogated by a centennarian for the 
causes, the answer must be l, the princi- 
pal cause rs the establishment and growth 
of Phillips Exeter Academy ; while other 
enterprises have fluctuated, fled or per- 
ished with slow decay, this school of 
learning has endured, striking its roots 



deeper and farther, diffusing material 
benefits year by year." 

A great advantage this Academy en- 
joys over other classical schools in Xew 
England is the provision for free tuition 
and the partial maintenance of poor but 
meritorious students. These scholars 
are not distinguished from other pupils 
except by proverty and merit. What 
they receive, is simply a reward for schol- 
arship and good character. This ''Foun- 
dation," as it is called, has attracted 
many poor but ambitious students, sev- 
eral of whom afterwards became emi- 
nent. One of these has shown his grati- 
tude by making over to the Academy an 
accumulating fund, now amounting to 
820,000. But the Trustees have not waited 
for further endowments in this direction. 
Early in the present century the number 
of these scholarships was raised to twelve 
and within a few years to twenty. About 
fifteen years since Abbott Kail was 
erected at a cost of $20,000. This ac- 
commodates fifty students. A portion, 
even, of the expense of cooking is 
paid by the institution and the boarders 
only pay the first cost of the food they 
consume. Gorham Hall has also been 
purchased and fitted to accommodate 
fifty students, though the arrangements 
for board vary slightly from those of Ab- 
bott Hall. 

There is also a small fund to aid the 
needy in the purchase of text books. 
Some seventeen years ago, Mr. John 
Langdon Sibley, librarian of Harvard 
College, contributed $300 for this pur- 
pose. Other additions to Dr. Phillips' 
endowments are a bequest of Nicholas 
f Gilman of Si. 000, the income of which is 
to be expended in vocal music; and $100 
by the late Leverett Saltonstall, to pur- 
chase books for the Academy Library. 

By a gift of Woodbridge Odlin, Esq., 
of Exeter, an English course has re- 
cently been established. The course ex- 
tends through three years, and Latin and 
French may be included. The Bancroft 

Scholarship, founded by Hon. Geo. Ban- 
croft, has an income of $140 ; the Hale 
Scholarship, founded by Miss Martha 
Hale, has also an income of §140; and 
the Gordon Scholarship, founded by 
Hon. Nathaniel Gordon, of Exeter, has 
an income of $120. The Foundation 
Scholarships are also in part supported 
by a liberal bequest of the late Hon. 
Jeremiah Kingman of Bamngton". The 
late Hon. F. O. J. Smith of Portland, 
Me., left a legacy to the Academy, which 
has not yet been made available, his es- 
tate not being fully administered. 

The present Board ol Trustees consists 
of Rev. Andrew P. Peabody, D. D., LL. 
D., President; Hon. Amos Tuck, A. M; 
Hon. George S. Hale, A. B.; Albert C. 
Perkins, A.M., ex officio; William H. 
Gorham, M. D.; Joseph B. Walker, A. 
M.; Rev. Phillips Brooks, D. D.; S. 
Clark Buzell, Esq., Treasurer. ; Gideon 
L. Soule, LL D., Principal Emeritus. 

The faculty is composed of Albert C. 
Perkins, A. M.. Principal; George A. 
Wentworth, A. M.. Professor of Mathe- 
matics; Bradbury L. Cilley, A, M., Pro- 
fessor of Ancient Languages; Robert 
Franklin Pennell, A. B., Professor of 
Latin; (Vacancy,) Odlin Professor of En- 
glish; Oscar Faulbaber, Ph. D., Instruc- 
tor in French ; Frederick T. Fuller, A. 
B., Instructor in English. 

Delicacy forbids our giving an ex- 
tended notice of these instructors ; in- 
structors in one of the oldest and best 
classical schools in the country and who, 
for depth of research, logical reasoning 
and aptness in communication, are the 
peers of any other in their profession. 
r^.With like talent and skill combined, a 
constantly increasing fund, a widening 
reputation yearly and periodically en- 
riched and brightened, by the love and 
veneration of graduates destined to use- 
fulness and eminence, who will not pre- 
dict another centnry, even centuries of 
success to Phillips Exeter Academy? 




Do we all have to lie -just a little? 

It will seem so if you try 
Sometime to render a reason 

When you cannot give reasons why. 
Mrs. B. comes in with her baby, 

And good Mr. B. comes, too, 
To have thsir partial opinions 

Corroborated by you. 

" Now isn't the darling pretty ? " 

And he is, to a mother's eyes, — 
But you have not the yearning 

Which the most of that beauty supplies. 
But you must be a brute, to tell her 

Honestly, truthful and square, 
That you see no marvel of beauty 

In a tangle of tow-colored hair. 

And tough farmer John (with his cattle) 

With simple sincerity bold, 
Wants to confirm his opinion 

By what he is sure you hold. 
And you must allow him to think so 

By some sort of innocent crook, 
Or thereafter and forever 

Be blotted out of his book. 

Then the scribbler calls with his verses 

And reads them all over to you ; 
And after you listen, how easy 

To smile with delight, that he's through. 
And if you edit a paper, 

And a roll of the stuff comes in 
By the hand of an old subscriber, 

You just have to listen, and grin. 

Then there comes the rub of the matter, 

To give liini a reason why 
The stuff do'n't appear in your columns 

And not tell a sort of a lie. 
Or. the good parson quotes from his sermon. 

As dull as a drum, and as dry; — 
Now wound the kind heart of the parson 

If you can, with the real reason why. 





" It can't be Jennie's ! " That is what 
I said this morning, as I saw the big slice 
beaming at me so cordially from its sil- 
ver cradle tucked daintily in with the 
white napkin. 

" But it is Jennie's," I almost heard it 
say, "and here are her wedding cards, 
and here is her note, saying, s My Paul 
and I are coming to see you, to-day.' 
So it is Jennie's, O unbeliever ! " repeat- 
ed the voluble brown cake. 

I leaned back in my easy chair, and as 
the soft April wind blew in at the open 
window, bringing a new flush to the 
cheek of the invalid, and stronger beat to 
the heart, I thought of Jennie. " My 
Jennie/' I always call her, for she has 
been mine through maDy changes which 
have come to both of us ; she will be 
mine as long as I stay here, and she will 
be doubly mine in that future world 
where friendship and love are perfected 
and consummated. Shall I tell you of 
her? And yet, you will think it only a 
simple little story of the joy and sorrow 
of love and loss ; no more, nor so much — 
God help us — as comes into the life of 
many of us, were the tale written out. 

Jennie came to us a stranger to all in 
the old Academy, but she won at once 
our school-girl love by her shyness and 
gentleness. If you think she was hand- 
some you are much mistaken, except that 
she wore the soul-beauty that always 
makes the possessor lovely. Beneath' a 
forehead in no way remarkable, she had 
grey eyes, very inexpressive when her 
features were at rest, but lighting up or 
drooping most winningly with her quick, 
varying emotions ; a long, large nose, 
wide, thin lips, and a skin whose exqui- 
site delicacy every breeze and sun ray 
marred with freckles. My fastidious 
hearer exclaims, ''What a description 
for a heroine! " But I never intimated 
that she was a heroine, and I warned 
you, in effect, that the story was not ex- 

But what is a "heroine?'' May she 
not be one who bears and suffers and 
sacrifices in unceasing little ways all 
through the little minutes and weeks, 
until the long years weigh her in the 
balance and find her never wanting ; 
until there rises to heaven self-abnega- 
tion like a tower? Yea, verily. Then 
my Jennie is a heroine, but she does not 
know it, dear heart! She never will 
know it until the angels tell her so some 
day in the city where the worthy walk 
in white. 

Our school days passed on, tame 
enough, of course, but seeming to us full 
of thrilling event. We all had our pref- 
erences and loves, and Jennie's came to 
her in the form of a handsome, blue-eyed 
youth, one of the students, who paid his 
boyish court at her shrine, and then 
passed on to some new attraction. An 
arrow was left in the young heart, how- 
ever, which rankled and festered there 
for many a long month, until it was with- 
drawn by her own brave hand, when the 
wound gradually healed and she was the 
same quiet, sweet Jennie as before. Xot 
just the same, either, for she was stron- 
ger and richer by a new experience. Ex- 
periences need not always be happy in 
order to bring health and strength, need 
they, my reader? A scar must not neces- 
sarily sear. My Jennie knew that. 

The years passed on, and for some 
time we met infrequently, although we 
corresponded regularly. It was plain 
from Jennie's letters that the soul-beau- 
ty was increasing, though in the midst 
of poverty and care, for she was nearly 
the youngest of a large family, who must 
have their start in life before her. There 
were sisters to be settled in new homes, 
and the family heart and family purse 
were stretched to the utmost to provide 
the simple dowry which seemed requi- 
site. Some of the brothers, with good 
talents and ambitions, must have a col- 
lege education. Aud Jennie bore her full 



part of all tins general sacrifice and econ- 
omy again and again, cheerful and un- 
complaining always. Xot that she was 
stupid and uncaring, for her nature was 
pie-eminently susceptible to all hopes 
and pleasant plans. She must do for 
others, putting self down and away ; so 
suitors came and went, while she bided 
ber time. 

So the years went by. and when she 
could be spared from the family work- 
shop, she wrought for herself, to supply 
her wants; sometimes in a factory ; some- 
times in a little box of a school house, 
teaching for a term ; sometimes, in an 
emergency, in a neighbor's kitchen, not 
wholly for the small recompense, but be- 
cause she loved to be helpful. 

Why did not this young woman strike 
out and make her way in the world, do 
you ask? Because, although she was as 
well lifted as many for an independent 
life, she was not easily to be shaken from 
the home nest where she was needed. 
All women are not free to " strike out." 
There are aged parents, and perhaps oth- 
er dependent relatives, to be taken into 
consideration. Jennie considered hers. 
By and by she and her youngest sister, 
Myra, were all who were left at home 
with the now feeble father and mother. 
And O, how Jennie loved that sister! 
She said to me often : 

"If God should take from me every 
friend I have, dear as they are to me, 
and leave me Myra, I could still be hap- 

There was to be a change. After four 
years in the army, and another year be- 
fore being "mustered out." ;k Johnny 
came marching home" to meet his wait- 
ing bride. Captain Johnny was the 
youngest brother, and he brought with 
him his dearest friend who had shared 
^ith him the five years' camp and battle 
experience; the stalwart, brave, good 
Captain Philip Lenient. Jennie and My- 

cnt and distributed, all in Jennie's sweet 
little imaginings. 

One evening 3Iyra came larer than 
usual into their little room, and found 
Jennie sitting by the window, looking 
out into the starlight with the hopeful 
gaze which had lately come to illuminate 
the dear grey eyes. Myra came and 
stood by her, caressing the dark hair, 
and said, " Jennie, darling, I will tell you 
something beautiful. In October I am 
going with Philip to his home in Missou- 
ri. I am so happy, I can hardly tell you. 
O Jennie !" 

But Jennie gave one mute, swift look 
away beyond the stars, and sank down 
in a little white heap by the window. 
Do you think she fainted, shrieked or ra- 
ged before the astonished Myra? Did 
she tell her, like Whittier's Annie, that 

" Would pray the wind and sea 
To keep him forever from thee and me." 

Xot at all. Jennie, in her saintliness. 
knew no such way as that. She only 
knew how to pray, and give herself up 
for others, and pour out great stores of 
love without getting the returns her 
heart craved. So she staid long on her 
knees praying that night. What she 
said only God and the stars heard. Then 
she rose and kissed the sorrowful sister, 
and went to bed. That was all. Then 
in that short, but long summer, she smil- 
ed down her heart-aches whenever she 
could, and made rugs and quilts and fine 
linen for Myra, and even 

" Could broider the bridal g-ear, 
Though hands should tremble and eves be wet, 
And stitch for stitch in her heart be set." 

No, indeed, her heart was not broken. 
As I told you that the good scarred heart- 
does not sear, so the good stricken heart 
does not break, though it bends and 
bleeds, and is always sensitive. But it 
answers to others' sorrows ever after, 
and so there is gain out of loss. 

In the fall Philip and Myra went away, 

ra grew to love their worthy guest, but and Jennie was all alone to watch and 
neither sister knew nor suspected the cheer the failing mother, and see her laid 
other's feelings. " Love is blind," pro- to rest in the little family burial ground 

verbially, and besides that, love is often 
dumb. Then Jennie wove bright, pretty 
visions out of her own pure heart, and 
dreamed happy dreams. Then "Jennie's 
wedding cake" was planned and made, 

on the hill top, where some of the home 
band were already sleeping. At last the 
old father joined the silent company on 
that hill top. and Jennie was left home- 
less, except as the married brothers and 



sisters -welcomed her by turns to theirs. 
Jennie was no longer young. Her con- 
tinued, though patient toil was telling 
upon her. A thread or two of gray ap- 
peared in her hair, and the girlish freck- 
les faded out, while the pallor of ill 
health succeeded them. But how much 
she accomplished by her affectionate, 
steady perseverance. The young neph- 
ews and nieces, in coming years, shall 
rear a monument to the memory of that 
tender care. 

" O Jennie, can this be you?" 

u O Myra, is this you?" 

These were the joyful, yet tearful 
greetings of the two sisters. Philip had 
written that Myra was sick, and alone 
and unprotected the timid little lady had 
travelled day and night the weary hun- 
dreds of miles, to bring unexpected joy 
to the invalid, and to herself as well. 
She wrote me from the West : 

" To sit by Myra's bedside, to care for 
her once more, to look into her dear eyes 
is more bliss than I ever hoped." 

Under the gentle touch of this best of 
nurses, Myra recovered ; and Jennie, re- 
maining awhile, was more at leisure to 
lavish some of her best feelings upon new 
friends, and among others, upon an un- 
worthy object. He appeared well, and 
Jennie, never suspicious, confided in him 
till he proved, first fickle, then false. It 
was a cruel blow, but suffering was noth- 
ing new to Jennie. It hurt just the same, 
but she could bear it, 

There came a sad day when Myra sud- 
denly sickened and died. No love of a 
fond husband, devoted sister, or helpless, 
clinging infants, could hold her back; 
' and then Jennie thought those beautiful 
babies of her lost Myra's would be hers 
to cherish in all the future years. Surely 
Philip would love her now, and make his 
home hers for their sakes, since nobody 
could be to Myra's children like Myra's 

4 'If your health were only better no 
one else should be my wife," the per- 
plexed Philip often said. " What shall I 
do, Jennie?" 

t; I cannot tell," was the invariable re- 
ply. " Do just as you think our Myra 
would have you do. I only know that 
love would make me strong again, to live 
and labor for my loved ones." 

But Philip chose for a wife a woman 
already well, and Jennie laid her little 
darlings in their new mother's arms, 
with sobs and kisses, and went her way. 
She thought once she could be happy 
with Myra alone ; could she be happy 
alone without her? Certainly. Her ca- 
pacity for happiness had grown with that 
which gives it exercise. Though she 
grieved, she could still love/and she who 
can do that is blessed. The world is full 
of objects of love; the little children, 
the old, theafneted, the ignorant, the sin- 
ful; and Jennie found them out. '*Love 
made her strong again," as she told 
Philip. Although not always recipro- 
cated to the extent of her large demands, 
it was not lost. "Talk not of wasted 
affection; affection never was wasted. If 
it enrich not the heart of another, its 
waters, returning back to their springs, 
like the rain, shall fill them full of re- 

Jennie proved the truth of that. If 
you should hear her soft, merry laugh, 
and see the peaceful look on her beauti- 
ful face — yes, Jennie isbeautiful now — 
you would know as I do, that all is calm 
and joyful within. 

But about * ; Jennie's wedding cake." 
you thought [the story was going to be 
about that? Well, it is all about it. 
Don't you see how it was in process of 
making through all the years ? All the 
hard, bitter things, all the disappoint- 
ments and losses that went to make up 
the ingredients of the distasteful loaf 
were sweetened by the joy of unselfish 
love and seasoned with the salt of con- 
stant goodness ; and Jennie's is of all 
wedding cakes the most delicious. \ 

And what, will I do with the doctrine 
that a person can never truly love but 
once? I do not know. I do not pretend 
to be wise. I only know that Jennie has 
a whole, full w fresh heart to give u her 

Jennie's Paul is just the man for her. 
He is worthy of her, and needs no other 
description. In a long and intimate ac- 
quaintance under a variety of circum- 
stances, the foundation was laid for a 
happy marriage. " The happiest day of 
my life," she called her engagement day ; 
what she named her recent wedding day 



she has vet to tell me when we meet. 

—story of u Jennie's wedding cake," and 
it is Jennie's after all ! 

And see ! down the road under the bud- 
ding elms, are coming Paul and my Jen- 
Xow I have finished ni} r sad — or glad? nie. 

" What are the lilies snowy white 
That bloom afresh at Easter tide, 

Wuea fairer still, 'mid sunshine bright, 
The April brings a bride— a bride! " 


When you have seen one Shaker settle- 
ment, you know almost precisely how 
they all look, — the same arrangement of 
buildings, the same style of dress and 
furniture, the same habits of thrift and 
tidiness, and that appearance about every- 
thing, as if here, at last, you had found a 
people settled into their places for their 
whole life-time. There is something 
about this air of permanence which takes 
hold upon you for the time being. You, 
yourself, are not sure of anything ; you 
may be obliged to change your place of 
abode to-morrow, or next week, or at 
farthest sometime; you are not certain 
even that you can keep your own home- 
stead in your family. Everybody is lia- 
ble to "sell out," to fail in business; 
changes uncounted on may take place, 
contingencies may arise, necessitating a 
removal, even to those whose local at- 
tachments would seem to be strong 
enough to hold them to one spot all their 
lives. To ''move on," like poor Jo., is 
the order for most of the race. 

But here is a body of men and women 
who are absolutely fixtures; who have 
not only voluntarily committed them- 
selves to a mode of life pre-arranged for 
them, but have done it with the knowl- 
edge that into it henceforth there will be 
no place for plan or conjecture about their 
future, as to where they may be living, 
or what be doing, a few years hence. 
In one sense, and a very practical one, 
their pilgrimage is ended. They may, 
and do make journeys to sister commu- 
nities and elsewhere, but no more think 
of any other change than we do of com- 
ing back after we are dead. 

They are there to sUvj. And that fact 
accounts for a great deal. It is partial 
explanation of the contentment on the 
faces of the Shaker sisters. It is a rea- 

son for the repose and settledness which 
pervade a Shaker village — that indefina- 
ble something, so altogether unlike the 
life of ordinary villages, and which you 
feel in the air, and are conscious of by 
some instinct, as men claim to be aware 
of the presence of spirits. TVhether you 
pass along the streets, or enter the 
houses, or wherever you go, you fuel 
that you are beyond the realm of hurry : 
there is no restlessness, or fret of busi- 
ness, or anxiety about anything ; it is as 
if the work was done, and it was one 
eternal afternoon. Xor does anything 
dispel this feeling, even when you are in 
the midst of their industries, and the 
making of cheese, the milking of cows, 
the washing and ironing, and baking. 
and harvesting are going on around you. 
They do it all so leisurely, so quietly, 
that you feel something as he did who 
saw men "as trees walking." 

They are the only people in this coun- 
try, if not in the world, who have been 
able for nearly a hundred years to live 
on the plan of a community of property, 
conducting their domestic affairs on the 
principle of co-operative house-keeping. 
Somewhere among the founders was re- 
markable sagacity and forecast ; and 
though their numbers fail, those quali- 
ties have by no means fallen off. It was 
an evidence of their far-seeing, practical 
sense that they chose such advantageous 
localities for their settlements. 

Xot the least desirable among the 
nineteen that exist in the United States, 
is that in the old, farming town of Can- 
terbury, in Xew Hampshire. The three 
villages, separated by fields, are on one 
long street on the crest of a ridge. They 
come into sight — three clusters of white 
or straw-colored buildings, with red ro<>u 
— as you ascend the last hill. The Shak- 




ers believe in sun and light, and a free 
circulation of air, so you "will see no 
outer blinds, or thick shrubbery, or 
shade trees. The orchards are for the 
most part away back, and smooth fields 
roll towards the south so far as the line 
of forest down in the low-lands. Your 
road dips into a shaded hollow, and when 
you come out, you are where, four meet ; 
a stone watering-trough is in the centre 
space, and guide-boards on the tree- 
trunks point to shaded ways off towards 
country villages, or north over the mount- 
ains. Your route is up the long hill, be- 
tween the beautiful uplands, skirted with 
such stone walls as you see nowhere but 
in Xew England. 

At the first house, you find your place 
of entertainment. The two front doors 
opeu, and a brother and sister come out ; 
and your attention is called first to their 
arrangement for alighting from a vehicle. 
of which you avail yourself, stepping 
upon a platform level with the fence-top. 
and by stairs descend to the flagged walk 
within the yard. You are addressed by 
your given name : you are no longer Mr., 
Mrs., or Miss, but John or Mary ; and. in 
answer to your questions, you hear "yea"' 
and "nay," often twice uttered, and with 
an approving or deprecatory inllectioD 
which the rougher a yes" or "no"* of 
common usuage are incapable of; you 

of the visitor who has ever had a house 
of her own. To such, there is refresh- 
ment in the absolute cleanliness and tidi- 
ness, and order. It is the one kind of 
household life where the rule of having 
u a place for everything, and everything 
in its place. " is always carried out. 
The consummate result has there been 
reached. Everything runs smoothly. 
Evidently those who planned the domes- 
tic arrangements, while they had in view 
handiness and compactness, did not over- 
look the fact that there might be a great 
saving of noise and labor in the con- 
struction of furniture ; and so, as far as 
practicable, they had presses and 
heavy benches built into the wall, in- 
stead of movable fixtures. Except in 
the dining-rooms, they can hardly be 
said to have any tables — though small 
round stands serve to hold the evening 
lamp — but in lieu of them, are broad 
benches, with compartments and closets 
filling the space beneath. Every avail- 
able place is occupied with drawers or 
closed-in-shelves, of all depths and sizes, 
answering for clothes-rooms, trunks, 
bureaus and wardrobes ; and in those 
commodious and nicely-finished recepta- 
cles are consolidated the multifarious 
articles, which in ordinarv houses are 

always getting into places where they 
should not be; and the sight must be 
to the knowledge of comforting to any much-worried mistress 
in the enunciation of of a house, who, delighting in quiet and 
system, enjoys putting her things to 
right, but is always haunted by the recol- 
lection that they will not u stay put.*' 

There are almost no steps to be taken, 
no doors to be opened, and there are no 
hiding-places for dirt or cobwebs; the 
speckless walls present a polished sur- 
face, unbroken by mirror or picture: the 
stained floors are crossed by paths of 

such flexibility 

those monosyllables as you had never 
suspected; for while the *• nay,*' besides 
its legitimate negative, is made to mean 
denial, reproof, warning, surprise, dis- 
appointment and sorrow, the t; yea"' not 
only affirms, but invites, approves, ca- 
resses, aud is, in the^rery cadence in 
whicn" it is spoken./a welcome. If you 
are a friend, you are made doubly free to 

their hospitality. In this way it was that carpet; the window-shutters slide down 

we came to know something of the homes 
and hearts of the Shaker women. 

If one's preconceived idea about the 
rooms is that they are unattractive, by 
reason of the austerity in furnishing, 
and the general primness — that is alto- 
gether a mistake. There is an esthetic, 
as well as a very practical side. But it 
is by no means certain that it is not the 

a groove, and drop out of sight within 
the ceiling when not in use; the care- 
fully ironed muslin curtains, which slip 
on rings, are folded like a napkin and 
lrdd up over the rod from which they are 
suspended; on wooden pins at the top 
of the room are hung all the chairs not 
immediately needed; and on another of 
these ubiquitous pins, behind the little 

latter which most readily takes the eye oblong box stove, which is set high and 



out from the wall, are ranged shovel and 
tongs, dirt-pan and brush ; and near at 
hand in the passage-ways, in immense 
presses reaching from floor to ceil- 
ing, containing shelves and a chest-like 
recess, is laid the fuel for immediate use. 
Everything is constructed and adjusted 
with reference to the fact that the occu- 
pants of those rooms are never to change 
their habitation. u We are here to stay. 
"We shall never move from here. We are 
here to live always," said one of the sis- 
ters; and so all her personal belongings 
are together, close at hand, as conven- 
iently and carefully arranged as she 
chooses to have them. She has her small 
properties, her individual rights, and ex- 
ercises her tastes as any other woman 
might. Every sister has one piece of 
furniture which is her own— a sort of 
cabinet, more or less elegant or elaborate, 
which combines work-table, writing- 
desk, and book-case, abounding with 
pigeon-holes, and lockers, and delightful 
little drawers and hiding-places, and 
made high enough to screen her as she 
sits before it in her splint-bottom chair. 
It is in the furnishing of these that there 
is the best opportunity for showing fem- 
inine tact and daintiness; in the vase of 
flowers, the book, or picture, or bit of 
ornamental work. 

Notwithstanding the absence of deco- 
ration on the walls, of draperies, and the 
luxurious and ornamental articles of the 
dwellings of the world's people, the liv- 
ing rooms, which three or four of the 

ing of the strong, bright carpet.-, it 
seemed as if one had been transported 
into some other age than this. It. was 
like going back to an old Saxon house- 
hold, where, while the master and all his 
men were away, on hunt or foray, the 
mistress and her maidens, in snowy wim- 
ple and kerchief, sat and spun, or wrought 
at tapestry, to enter those rooms where 
shuttles and wheels, and reels were liv- 
ing, and among bright colored yarns and 
webs, those women were living a busy, 
domestic, social life, in a home where 
none but women entered. 

Their mode of co-operative housekeep- 
ing might furnish some hints to those 
outside who have faith that any system 
of the kind can ever be made available. 
Each has her allotted work, and when it 
is done, her time is her own ; and in most 
cases there is rotation enough to relieve 
the life from monotony ; for, after a cer- 
tain number of weeks, she takes her turn 
at something different. There is nothing 
to worry about. She has ner one thing 
to do, and with no others has she any 
concern. All the bread for one family 
and the guests is baked in one place, 
where young girls in snowy caps were 
waiting about for the loaves to rise; in 
the laundry, others hovered about the 
long ironing boards, or tended the get- 
ting up of the diaphanous caps, which 
were receiving their finishing stiffness in 
an oven; in the mending-room, in the 
dairy— shining in cleanliness and frag- 
rant of cheese — and in the poultry-yard^ 
sisters share together, are anything but some young, and some old had there 
austere; nor do they lack in elements of work, and one Scotch lassie tended their 
the picturesque. Those homely but cosy flower garden. There was no lack of 
interiors — what a quaint, old-world look good feeling or pleasant manners; but 

they had, recalling some of the medieval 
paintings, where the few accessories to 
the human figures are made the most of, 
and depicted in such a realistic way as to 
seize at once upon the fancy! There 
were long, low-ceiled apartments, with 
broad benches and presses in warm tints, 
with narrow, nun-like beds, and a pot or 
two of flowers on.the window-seat, which 
reminded one of certain old pictures, 
where the virgin Mary and her kinswom- 
en are represented with pre-Raphaelite 
fidelity. And in the house where noth- 
ing was done but the spinning and weav- 

oti the contrary, while preserving a de- 
gree of reticence, natural to their separa- 
tion as a people, there was sisterly ten- 
derness and regard for one another's 
rights and feelings, not always found 
where that relation is one of blood in- 
stead of association. 

In passiug from the Lower to the Up- 
per Village, we went by their burial- 
ground, which is a plain field, unadorned 
and unshaded, except by a few pines and 
firs and low poplars. There,, with the 
long grass waving above them, lie in 
regular rows, all who have died there— 



the headstones of a size, all alike, and 
inscribed only with the name, initials, 
and figures, denoting the age. and year 
of death, 'as simple as possible, begin- 
ning with the founder. The ages thus 
given and general statistics show great 
longevity in the community. It would 
seem that the freedom from worldly 
cares was accompanied by length of days. 
As they have no concern about the fu- 
ture — their support being secured — they 
have leisure to invent and to perfect the 
labor-saving machinery which does such 
service out-of-doors and in. They do 
not at Canterbury manufacture so many 
wares as formerly, but of its kind their 
work is of the best; and they are as 
shrewd at driving a bargain as they are 
efficient managers. They have shown 
great judgment in the construction of ag- 
ricultural implements, in high cultivation, 
in the raising of stock, and in the selec- 
tion of the littest. At six o'clock of our 
first evening there, we heard the great 
bell ring, and were invited to go up to 
the barn and see the milking-. Some 

thirty cows filed in, each to her own 
stall, when one of the brethren moved a 
lever, by means of which all were secured 
at once, and the work was begun by the 
sisters. The blue-frocked young men 
waited round till it was over, then the 
milking stools were hung up in order, 
the lever pressed back, and every stan- 
chion slid aside, setting free the cows 
which were all taken back to the pasture 
to remain till sunrise. 

On our second evening, a company of 
young girls gathered round the piano, 
and sung "Ninety and Nine," and "Hold 
the Fort ,? from the veritable Moody and 
Sankey's hymns; and after that, we were 
admitted to an old-fashioned apple-bee, 
in the great wash-room, to which cart- 
loads of apples had been brought, in 
readiness, and where, at nine o'clock, we 
left the large party, in the height of busi- 
ness, running the machines, carrying 
round the trays of pared apples, and col- 
lecting the slices, altogether a social 
scene, an unexpected merry-making, for 
a Shaker community. A. B. Harris. 



In a small parish, a few leagues out of 
London, a young and beautiful girl sat 
sobbing as though her heart would break. 
And good reason she had. poor child, for 
in the same humble room her mother had 
but just breathed her last. 

In this same room stood the undertaker 
and one of the parish officials, who had 
just arrived. Neither of them paid much 
heed to the sobs and lamentations of the 
poor girl, for they were used to such 
scenes, and in no way liable to overflow 
with a superabundance of sympathy in 
any case. ( 

They had been summoned hither by 
some friendly neighbor of the deceased, 
and were now considering with charac- 
teristic sagacity the causes which, in 
their imagination rather than in fact, had 
led to the present state of increased pau- 

Mrs. Forsyth was cited as an example 

in point, although the poor woman man- 
aged, up to the last moment of her life, 
to keep off the parish. 

Jack Forsyth, they said— that was the 
late husband of the deceased — had been 
lefc with a fortune of three hundred 
pounds; but he had squandered it all in 
riotous living, before his death, and had 
left his wife and child to come on the 

And such, they sagely assured each 
other, were the promoting causes of the 
present increase of pauperism — and pau- 
perism, they still further affirmed, could 
never be eradicated from their midst so 
long as people were permitted to do just 
as they liked, and throw away the money 
which a kind Providence had seen fit to 
bestow upon them. 

Ellen Forsyth, despite the frantic na- 
ture of her grief, could not well avoid 
listening to the unfeeling remarks of 


these interesting worthies,, and she se- 
cretly resolved that, come what might, 
she never would become a burden to the 

Xo sooner, therefore, was the form of 
her dearly beloved mother committed to 
the dust, than she quietly disposed of 
what few articles of furniture the house 
afforded, settled with the parish beadle, 
who had defrayed the funeral expenses 
in the first instance, and the next morning 
turned her face resolutely in the direction. 
of London. 

She had heard a great deal of London, 
though she had never been there. Her 
ideas of metropolitan life were necessa- 
rily vague — possibly extravagant; but 
her will was iron. 

After a journey of four or five hours, 
weary and foot-sore, she reached a poor 
inn in the suburbs of the town. 

It was during the troublous times of 
the first Charles ; and coming with no 
recommendation, she found it impossible 
to obtain a situation, even as a servant 

The little money she possessed being 
at length exhausted, and no other oppor- 
tunity of a place presenting itself, she 
engaged her services to a wealthy brew- 
er to carry out beer from his brew-house 
— becoming, in consequence, one of those 
persons denominated ••tub-women. " 

Mr. Peasley, the brewer, who happened 
to be a single gentleman, observing a 
good-looking girl in this most menial and 
degrading of occupations, took her in- 
stantly into his employ as a house servant. 

If Ellen was attractive in the mean at- 
tire of a tub-woman, she became posi- 
tively irresistible to the brewer in the 
neat garb of a servant-girl. 

She was sprightly and intelligent — 
modest, likewise, yet open and unreserv- 
ed; and the brewer, whose heart was not 
adamant, found himself day by day be- 
coming insensibly entangled in the mesh- 
es of love. 

Of course he could not fail to perceive 
that a wide disparity in a social sense ex- 
ited between himself— one of the richest 
commoners in England — and a poor ser- 
vant-girl, who had neither money nor 
friends, and perhaps not even respectable 
antecedents to recommend her. 

But she was superior to all the seduc- 
tive arts and blandishments of that dis- 
solute period, and finding it impossible 
by presents or promises to tempt her 
from the paths of virtue, the enamored 
brewer, no longer able to restrain his pas- 
sion, prostrated himself before the incor- 
rigible Ellen, and offered her his hand 
and fortune, which she, considering the 
liberality of the proposal, if not the pas- 
sion which had prompted it, very joyfully 

Ellen Forsyth, now the wife of a 
wealthy citizen, and possessed of charms 
that the loveliest lad}- in the realm might 
have coveted, soon became courted, pet- 
ted, and llattered by many, and hated in 
the same proportion by others who had 
jealously regarded her progress from the 
low calling of a "tub-woman" to acoach- 
and-four, and the arms and exhaustless 
purse of the prince of the brewers of 

Peasley, who was more than double the 
age of his wife when he married her, 
died while she was yet a young woman 
of twenty-five, leaving her undisputed 
heir to the bulk of his property, which 
rendered her more than ever the object 
of flattery, and fortune-hunting persecu- 

The vulgar business of the brewery 
was of course dropped, and no one but 
those far beneath her in social dignity, 
and maliciously inclined at that, presum- 
ed to question her antecedents, or to rec- 
ollect aught of that period when she had 
first appeared in the real-life scenes of 
London low-life as a "tub-woman." 

Of course the lords, dukes, and earls, 
to whom she nodded through her coach 
window, had no disposition to know 
ought of so scandalous a matter, so long 
as the rich and beautiful widow was wil- 
ling to receive their attentions, and to 
encourage them with her smiles to hope 
for still greater favors. 

On the death of Mr. Peasley, an emi- 
nent young counsellor at law, named 
Hyde, was recommended to the bloom- 
ing and dashing young widow as a suita- 
ble person to arrange her late husband's 

Now novelists do not work without a 
precedent, as may easily be surmised 



when you find parallel cases just as sur- 
prising and romantic with the historian. 
The lady falls in love with the page, or 
her father's secretary, which is all the 
same, and the miss with the music-mas- 
ter, or the tnessieur who gives twelve les- 
sons in the French ; the bachelor uncle 
with the housekeeper, though he has 
riches and poor relations in abundance; 
or the hostler with the bar-maid, who 
treats him to gin and water on the sly; 
— and. pray, why should it be out of place 
with the widow of a wealthy brewer to 
fall in love with the handsome and ambi- 
tious attorney she employs. 

It is all the work of association, we 
say, if the affinities be right — in proof of 
which, let me add, that the widow of the 
brewer did fall in love with Hyde, the 
attorney, which was all proper and busi- 
ness-like, and to work up the usual, or, 
rather, unusual climax of this affair, 
Hyde, who regarded the widow's fortune 
as a matter too substantial to be trilled 
with, readily followed suit, — loved, pro- 
posed, and was accepted. 

"Hold I" says the discriminating reader. 
"This is no romance, my dear sir ; it 
smacks too much of the metalic ring of 
financial cleverness.* 1 

True, gentle reader, it is difficult to rid 
ourselves of the old impression of " love 
in a cottage," princely adventurers in the 
garb of troubadours, and similar dear old 
moonshine that leaves its impression on 

the dreamy and poetic spirit of our own 
most matter-of-fact age — at least when 
compared to the romance of our present 
matter-of-fact narration. 

But the world of the real is not less 
stereotyped in representation than the 
world of the ideal — it is all the same yes- 
terday, to-day, and forever. 

Circumstances may modify passion, re- 
fine intellect, purify thought ; but, in re- 
ality, human nature remains the same in 
Botany Bay, China, or the antipodes. 
Twenty years ago we remember to have 
seen Miss McCrae murdered in statuary, 
and the other day we saw her again, a 
little faded it is true, as naturally might 
be expected, after constantly undergoing 
the process of being murdered for so long 
a period, by a malicious savage in red 
daub and feathers ; and as you look back, 
are you not morally satisfied she is the 
same unfortunate lady, of the same iden- 
tical plaster and wax that your grand- 
father saw, and that your grandson is 
positively certain to see, and to regard 
with the same admiration and awe that 
you yourself once regarded it? 

Suffice it to say, or rather let it be suf- 
ficient to add, that the lawyer and the 
brewer's widow were married, and that 
Hyde, afterwards the great Earl of Clar- 
endon, by issue of this marriage, became 
father-in-law to James II., so that the 
poor tub-woman was the true mother of 
the queen mother of Mary and Anne. 


The territory upon which the city 
of Manchester is located was first 
settled about the year 1 730, by 
Scotch-Irish, who emigrated from 
the north of Ireland in 1719, and with 
others established the colony of Lon- 
donderry. Among these settlers was 
Archibald Stark, the father of Gen. 
John Stark of Revolutionary fame. 
The territory which was incorpo- 
rated as a town by the name of Der- 

ryfleld in 1751, consisted of a por- 
tion of the south-west part of Ches- 
ter, a part of the north-west portion 
of Londonderry and an ungranted 
tract of land called Hurrytown, about 
thirty -five square miles in all. Ara- 
oskeag Falls in the Merrimack at 
this point was a great fishing place 
and vast quantities of salmon, shad, 
alewives, lamprey eels, &c. were 
taken. The Pennacook Indians had 


their headquarters at this place, and 
upon an eminence near the east bank 
of the river, overlooking- the falls 
and upon which now stinus the man- 
sion of ex-Gov. Smyth, Passacona- 
way, the chief of the tribe, resided. 
In 1S10, the name of the town was 
changed to Manchester. Up to the 
year 1S37, the town was of but little 
importance, and contained at that 
lime only about S00 inhabitants, and, 
up to the time mentioned, no law- 
yer, physician or clergyman had 
settled in the town. 

The city, which was incorporated 
in 1816, now contains about 25,000 
inhabitants. The rise, growth and 
prosperity of this — the largest city 
in the State — has been almost wholly 
dependent upon its great manufac- 
turing interests. There are now in 
the city four large corporations, viz : 
the Amoskeag, the Stark, the Man- 
chester and the Langdon,with an ag- 
gregate capital of $6, 750, 000, besides 
many other manufacturing establish. 
ments of less importance. 

In tracing the history of manufac- 
turing at Manchester, it is proper to 
state that cotton, goods were manu- 
factured in 1809 at Amoskeag Vil- 
lage, which was then a part of GofTs- 
town. This village is situated on 
the west bank of the river opposite 
Amoskeag Falls and about a mile 
and a quarter from the business por- 
tion of the city. The first cotton 
mill in the State was built at New 
Ipswich in 1803. Benjamin Pritch- 
ard, who had been connected with 
the mill at New Ipswich, came to 
Arnoskeag; in 1809, and, joining him- 
BSlf with others, built a mill and 
commenced the business of manufac- 
turing cotton cloth. The business 
proved successful and the next year 

a stock company, called the Amos- 
keag Cotton and Wool Company, 
was formed and incorporated. The 
machinery was for spinning alone. 
The cotton was picked and the yarn 
was woven by the women belonging 
in the vicinity. The price paid for 
weaving averaged about 3 1-2 cents 
per yard, according to the fineness, 
and a smart weaver could earn about 
36 cents per day. 

In 1825, the property was sold to 
a new company, and a machine shop 
and two new mills were erected and 
the manufacture of sheetings, shirt- 
ings and tickings was commenced. 
The tickings soon acquired a great 
popularity, as they were the best 
which were then manufactured in 
the country. The trade mark upon 
the tickings, consisted of the letters 
A. C. A. The first two letters 
standing for Amoskeag Company 
and the last letter A., signifying the 
first class or quality of the goods. 
This trade mark has been used by 
the company at Amoskeag and its 
successor, the Amoskeag Manufac- 
turing Company, for upwards of fifty 
years. The operations of the com- 
pany at Amoskeag were very suc- 
cessful. Many new buildings were 
erected and the village became quitp 

In 1830 an examination of the ter- 
ritory bordering on the east bank of 
the river, a short distance below the 
falls by engineers developed the fact 
that there were splendid sites for 
mills at that point and that a vast 
hydraulic power Could be obtained 
by conducting canals leading from 
the river just above the falls and ter- 
minating at a point about a mile and 
a quarter below. The fall in the 
river at the falls is about GO feet. 



A large number of Boston capi- 
talists united and resolved to lay the 
foundations of a great manufactur- 
ing* town. Accordingly, in the year 
1831, the Amoskeag Manufacturing 
Company was incorporated, with a 
capital of $1,600,000. The stock of 
the old Amoskeag Company was 
merged into that of the new one and 
the remainder of the stock was taken 
up in a short time. The Company 
secured a title to all the water power 
upon the Merrimack at Manchester, 
Hooksett and at Garvin's Falls be- 
low Concord. Upwards of fifteen 
hundred acres of land on the east 
side of the river at Manchester were 
purchased. Those lands extended 
from the falls south for a distance of 
about a mile and a half and a mile in 
an easterly direction. A new town 
was laid out, the streets crossing 
each other at right angles. A new 
stone dam and two canals with 
guard locks also were constructed. 
It was the plan of the company to 
furnish other companies with sites 
and power for mills and to erect such 
mills to be operated on their own ac- 
count and at the same time to sell 
their lands for stores, dwelling 
houses, &c. The first mill in the 
new town was erected by the Amos- 
keag Company for the Stark Corpo- 
ration in 1838. The Amoskeag Com- 
pany also built a machine shop and 
foundry the same year, and, in 
1839, the Compauy built two mills 
on their own account. In 1843 this 
Company erected another mill which 
was 450 feet long TO feet wide and 
five stories high. These were fol- 
lowed by others at various times, un- 
til now the Company has ten mills 
which are among the largest in the 

The Company have recently made 
very extensive improvements which 
required a great outlay of money. 
Among these, are a new stone dam 
which was erected in 1S73 at a cost 
of $50,000. The channel of the river 
opposite the manufactering estab- 
lishments has been turned so that 
about ten acres of very valuable land 
has been secured for manufacturing 

The Amoskeag Company has been 
very successful, and it appears by 
the last annual report of the Treas- 
urer, William Amory of Boston, 
that .the dividends have averaged 
13 per cent, annually for the forty 
years he has held the office, and that 
the total value of the property is now 
$5,300,000. It also appears that 
there is a reserved fund of $1,700,- 
000. Mr. Amory resigned in 18T6 
and was succeeded by T. Jefferson 

Ex-Gov. Straw, who has been con- 
nected with the Company from the 
first, in various capacities has been 
the Agent for more than twenty 
years. C. L. Richardson is Clerk. 

The Company manufactures Tick- 
ings, Denims, Drillings, Sheetings, 
Ca?ifon Flannels, Grain Bags, Ging- 
hams, Shirting Stripes, and a va- 
riety of fancy cotton fabrics. Also, 
Steam Fire Engines, machinery, &c. 

The following are additional sta- 
tistics : 

Capital Stock in 3000' shares $3,000,000 

Number of Mills 10 

Number of Spindles 135,000 

Number of I/Ooms 4,r>00 

Number of Females employed 2,000 

Number of Males employed •--.*! 2,ooo 

Founds of Cotton consumed per week 2";0,000 
Pounds of Clotb made per week 22">,0<X) 

Yards Cloth made per week 700,0* K) 

Tons Coal used per annum 10,000 

Cords Wood-? Ubed per annum _ 1,000 

Gallons Oil used per annum 14,000 

Pounds of Starch used per annum— 2j0 

tons 500,000 

Drugs used per annum $200,000 

Mater-wheels used: 3 8 ft, 13 5 ft., turbines. 
Aggregate II. 1'., about -1,000 


• Q00 finally the whole property was Bold 

tfram power, only auxiliary, 1 Corliss 

Engine, H. P. 
Montlilv Puv-Koll, $85,000 in Mills. 

' Tot :il $120,000 


to pay the debts and a new company 

Payment up to last Saturday in each mqnth. which was incorporated with a capi- 
J'iiv-Pav middle of second week following. , „ . , . 

the stark mills. tal of $2,000,000,purchased the prop- 

This Company was incorporated evt 7 aud commenced great improve- 
in 1838. The Company manufac- ments - The business is now quite 
tores Sheetings, Drillings, Cotton prosperous as the stock sells for 
Puck, Seamless Bags and Linen |13T ? the par value being $100 per 
Goods. The following are addition- sliare « The Company manufactures 
«t. tistics • plain and fancy "Worsted Goods and 

Prints. John C. Palfrey of Boston 
is Treasurer. J. C. Dean is Super- 
intendent of Printing Department. 
Joseph Snow is Superintendent of 
Manufacturing Department. J. S. 
Shannon Paymaster of Manufactur- 
ing Department. Andrew Baker is 
the Paymaster of the Printing De- 


Capital Stock in 1250 shares 


Number of Mills 


Number of Cotton Spindles 


Number of Flax Spindles 


Somber of Looms 


Number of Females employed 


Number of Males employed 


pounds Flax and Tow consumed 




Pounds Cotton consumed per week 130,000 

Pounds Cloth made per week 


Yards Cloth made per week 


Cords Wood used per annum 


<. . lions Oil used per annum 


Pounds Starch used per annum 


Drugs used per annum 


Water-wheels used 

9 Turbines 

Monthly Pay Roll 


Payment up to the last Saturday in each 
pay Day, Wednesday following. 

William Amory was also Treas- 
urer of this Company from the time 
of its organization. He resigned in 
1S75 and was succeeded by Edmund 
Dwight of Boston. Phineas Ad- 
ams has held the office of Agent 
for about 25 years. D. C. Gould 
is Paymaster. The average divi- 
dends have been 10 per cent, on the 


This enterprise was originally in- 
corporated in 1839 by the name of 
the Merrimack Mills. In 1849, its 
ftame was changed to the Manches- 

Capital Stock , $2,000,000 

Number of Mills 6 

Number of Frinteries 1 

Number of Cotton Spindles 75,000 

Number of Worsted Spindles 15,000 

Number of Printing Machines 15 

Number of females employed 1,860 

Number of Males employed 1,140 

Pounds Wool consumed per week 35,000 

Pounds Cotton consumed per week 80,000 

Yards Cloth made per week 550,000 

Yards Cloth Printed per week 1,000,000 

Yards dved per annum 12,500, W0 

Yards Printed per annum 40,000,000 

Tons Coal used per annum 15,000 

Cords Wood used per annum 1,000 

Gallons Oil used per annum 13,000 

Pounds Starch used per annum 125,000 

Drugs used per annum $500,000 
Water-wheels used— 3 eight ft., 1 four ft. 

1 seven foot 

Aggregate H. P. 2,000 

Monthly Pay Roll $95,000 

Payment up to the last Saturday in each month 

Pay Day, Thursday following. 

Print'g Dept. Pay Day: third day in each 


This Company was incorporated 

''-f Print Works and in 1852, its cap- in 1857 and commenced operation in 

*Ul was increased to $1,800,000. 18G0. The success of the Company 

1 unrig the war and a few years sue- for several years during and succeed- 

-ding, this Company was very sue- ing the war was very remarkable. 

cartful and very high dividends were About the year 1865 an annual divi- 

paia. The stock which was divided dend of 50 per cent, upon the capi- 

r **o shares of $1000 each, was sold tal stock was paid. For somo time 

■ upwards of $2,000 per share, past the business is much depressed 

u * Hi a year or two later, misfor- and no dividend has been paid to 

Hies overtook the Company, until the stockholders for the past year. 



The business is now improving, how- Amonec the other manufacturing 
ever. The Company manufactures interests at Manchester are the Man- 
fine Sheeting, Shirtings and Silesias. Chester Locomotive Works with a 
William Amory, Jr., of Boston is capital of $100,000. The business 
Treasurer. William L. Killey is has heretofore been quite successful 
Agent and Walter S. Killey is Clerk, and as many as TOO hands have been 
statistics. employed. The business for the 

$500,000 p a st three years has been very dull. 
William G-. Means is Treasurer. 
Aretas Blood is Agent and E. W. 
Sanborn is Clerk. 

Olzeldam's Hosery Mill has a cap- 
ital of $100,000 and employs 140 
hands, manufacturing 1,500 dozen 
pairs of hose per week. 

Capital Stock in 500 shares 
Number of Mills 
Number of Spindles 
Number of Looms 
Number of Females employed 
Number of Males employed 
Founds Cottou consumed per week 
Pounds Cloth made per week 
Yards Cloth made per week 
Cords Wood used per annum 
Gallons Oil used per annum 
Pounds Starch used per arumm 
Water Wheels used 
Monthly Pay Poll, 4 weeks 

Payment up to last Saturday in each month 

Pay Day, Thursday following. 















How wearily we wait, for the Spring ! 

But it's almost at the gate, glorious Spring ! 
When from out the snowy tomb, 
The modest flowers will bloom, 
And yield their sweet perfume 
To the Spring. 

'Tis a work of love to watch, for the Spring, 
And the balmy breath to catch, of the Spring, 
When the lily of the vale, 
And the violet thin and frail, 
With the snowdrop drooping pale, 
Greet the Spring. 

There are lands across the sea, where the Spring 

Brings the song-bird flitting free, in the Spring, 

Where the lark ascends the sky, 

With a joyous lyric cry, 

And the thrush is piping by, 

To the Spring. 

But our dear New England still, in the Spring, 
Has the robin with his trill, in the Spring, 
And we hear the humming bees, 
And behold the budding trees. 
And we feel the matchless breeze, 
Of the Spring. 
New Hampshire, March, 1877. 




—Exeter owes $50,534.34. 

—The citizens of Colebrook have voted 
!■» build a new town-house. 

—The Freewill Baptist church at La- 
ronia, recently burned, is to be rebuilt 
ihia season. 

•—The citizens of Allenstown are to 
bold their town meetings in Suncook vil- 
lage, hereafter. 

— The next Legislature, will contain an 
rx-Uiilted States Senator and an ex-Mem- 
ber of Congress. 

— The Union School District at New- 
port will expend 82,500 for school pur- 
poses the coming year. 

— Rev. A. S. Xickerson, pastor of the 
Unitarian church at Charlestown, has 
teudered his resignation. 

— Col. L. W. Cogswell of Hennikeris 
to deliver the oration at Hillsborough, 
Memorial Day, May 30. 

—Rev. James Marshall, recently of 
Acworth, has become pastor of the Con- 
gregational church at Troy. 

—Augustus A. Woolson of Lisbon is 
mentioned as the "Young Men's candi- 
date" for Speaker of bhe House. 

— An average of one thousand messa- 
ges a day are now sent at the office of 
the Direct Cable Co. at Rye Beach. 

—Rev. X. C. Lothrop has resigned the 
{•astorate of the Freewill Baptist church 
at Candia, and will remove to Bristol. 

— Three Eppingmen have been elected 
Governor— Wm. Plumer in 1810, D. L. 
Morrill in 1825, and B. F. Prescott in 

—George F. Putnam has the office and 
' brary of the late X. B. Felton of Haver- 
hill, and has removed to that town from 
*> arren. 

t —Business at the Xashua manufactories 
i- -aid to be improving. The Jackson 
Mills are manufacturing more goods than 
ever before. 

—The Principal of the Manchester 
High School has $2,000 per annum. Do- 
*•* pays her principal 81,800, Concord 
*I,ii00 and Keene 81,400. 

. — EdwardSpauldingofWard4, Xashua. 
- a member elect of the Council, and Ed- 
*anl Spaulding of Ward 4. Kerne, a 
1 - '"her elect of the House. 

—There will be two editors in the next 
J^islature — Wm. F. Stevens of the 
°neord Monitor and George F. Mosher 
1 Ui( ' -Morning Star, Dover. 

— Eev. Abel Manning of Goffstown is 
the oldest Congregational clergyman in 
the State, being 89 years of age. He 
prepared the history of Pembroke after 
he was 84. 

— Hiram Hitchcock of Hanover, re- 
cently elected to the Legislature from 
that town, was for several years proprie- 
tor of the Fifth Avenue* Hotel. Xew 

—John T. Gibbs of Dover, formerly of 
the Gazette, and Asa McFarland of Con- 
cord, formerly of the Statesman, are the 
oldest newspaper men now living in the 

—Frank W. Hackett, one of the Pepre- 
sentatives elect from Portsmouth, a son 
of Hon. TV. II. Y. Hackett, was the pri- 
vate secretary of Caleb Cushing during 
the Geneva arbitration. 

— F. A. Sawyer, formerly a Senator 
from South Carolina, who once taught 
school in Xashua, and married a young 
lady of that city. 'was one of a number of 
Washington gamblers recently arrested. 

— At the recent town meeting in Little- 
ton, Harry Bingham, John Fair and 
James J. Barrett were appointed a com- 
mittee to consider and report upon the 
cost and expediency of preparing a his- 
tory of the town. 

— An earnest and apparently success- 
ful effort has been made of late to revive 
the Universalist society of Dover. Meet- 
ings have been holden regularly during 
the past winter, and a call has been ex- 
tended to Rev. H. W. Hand of Marl- 
borough to preach for the society a year, 
at a salary of 81,000. His acceptance is 

— The Congregational church in Green- 
land is one hundred and seventy years 
old. In this time it has had but seven 
pastors, the first serving fifty-three years 
and the second forty-eight,* their united 
pastorates running through more than a 
century. Four died in office, and their 
remains lie in the burying-place, not very 
far from the house of worship. 

— The people of Dover contemplate 
with pleasure the proposed erection of a 
new 40.000 spindle cotton mill in that 
city, by the Cocheco Manufacturing Co., 
which will add two-fifths to the svr.rking 
capacity of the corporation, and propor- 
tionately, of course, to the business of 
the city, which has been nearly at a 
stand-still for the last dozen years. 





Beneath the western heaven's span 

Has sunk the golden day ; 
The cloud's rich sunset hues and tints 

Have died in shade away; 
The dim night comes from" out the east 

With gloom and vapor gray. 

The stars far in the sky's hlue depths 

Their vigil 'gin to keep ; 
The moon above yon eastern hill 

Climbs up the lofty steep ; 
The night winds steal with gentle wing 

Above the flowers asleep. 

The birds upon the tuneless spray 
Have folded close their wings; 

And to the silent night alone 
The winding river sings ; 

Its song is of the woods and meads — 
A thousand happy things. 

No voice is in the tranquil air, 

No murmur save its own ; 
The earth is hushed as heaven above, 

Where, girt with cloudy zone, 
The moon goes up among the stars 

To take the ebon throne. 

Sweet calm, and undisturbed repose, 

O'er all the landscape rest; 
Tet is there in the breathless scene 

A voice which thrills the breast, 
A something, which in thanks and love 

May only be expressed. 


Not from the flowers of earth, 

Not from the stars, 
Not from the voicing sea, 

May we 
The secret wrest which bars 
Our knowledge here 
Of all we hope and all that we may fear 

We watch beside our graves, 

Yet meet no sign 
Of where our dear ones dwell, 

Ah, well ! 
Even now your dead and mine 
May long to speak 
Of raptures it Mere Miser we should seek 

Oh, hearts we fondly love ! 

Oh, pallid lips 
That bore our farewell kiss 

From this 
To yonder world's eclipse ! 
"Do ye, safe home, 
Smile at your earthly doubts of what would come 

Grand birthright of the soul, 

Naught may despoil! 
Oh, precious, liealinar balm, 

To calm 
Our lives in pain and toil! 
God's boon, that we 
Or soon or late shall know what is to be 


Chisel in hand stood a sculptor boy, 

With his marble block before him, 
His face lit up with a smile of joy 

As an angel dream passed o'er him! 
He carved the dream on the shapeless stor. t, 

With many a sharp incision; 
With heaven's own light the sculpture shonG - 

He had caught the angel's vision. 
Sculptors of life are we as Ave stand 

With our souls uncarved before us ; 
Waiting the hour, when at God's command, 

Our life dream passes o'er u<. 
If we curve it then, on the yielding stone, 

With many a sharp incision, 
Its heavenly beauty shall be our own, 

Our lives that angel's vision. 


A skeptic, through the wilderness of Vin 
Was guided by a faithful Bedouin; 

And evermore whene'er the fierce simoon 
Swept o'er the desert on its wings of gloom — 

Or when the waters failed, and for their lack 
The weary camels faltered in their track— 

The skeptic noted that, with outstretched hands, 
The Arab thrtw himself upon the sands, 

And pressed his turbaned forehead to the ground, 
And hid his face in silence most profound. 

"Oh! wherefore kneele=t thou?" the skeptic cried 
At last in wonder. "Wherefore oh ! my guide, 

Prostrate thyself in this lone desert place, 
And in thy bournous muffle up thy face?" 

"I kneel to worship God," the Arab said; 
"To worship God and beg His helping aid." 

"A God ! a God ?" the scoffer laughed. "Poor fool ! 
Tis plain to see thou never wenfst to school; 

Thou seest not, thou hearest not, dull clod! 
How dost thou know there ever was a God?" 

"How do I know?"— the Bedouin upraised 
His stately head, and on the speaker gazed— 

A native dignity, a grave surprise, 
Rounding the arches of his dusky eyes— 

"How do I know that in the darkness went 
Last night a wandering camel past my tent, 

And not a man ? How know? you demand; 
Lo, by the prints he left upon the sand ! 

And now, behold ! thou unbelieving one !" 
(And turning westward to the setting sun, 

The Arab's finger pointed to the glow 
Of rosy radience on clouds of snow), 

"How know I that there is a God on high? 
Lo! by His footprint in yon glorious sky I" 





VOL. T. 

JUNE, 1877 

NO. 2. 



The early history of Xew Hampshire 
was full of disorders, political and reli- 
gious. For the first seventeen years the 
colonists had no rest in church or state. 
They were too weak to punish great 
criminals, and too factious to exclude 
unworthy preachers. Their social feuds 
did not lead to open war, though they 
sometimes threatened it. Becoming 
weary of intestine troubles, the four 
towns, almost unanimously, in 1641, 
sought a union with Massachusetts. 
They were cordially welcomed by the 
larger State. At the time of the union, 
New Hampshire contained about two 
mmdred legal voters. Hampton was 
founded under the auspices of Massachu- 
setts, and the territory where the other 
Settlements were made was claimed by 
her citizens, because their charter bound- 
♦-'1 their grant, on the north, by a line 
running three miles north of the head of 
the Merrimack River. This conflict of 
l5 tles rose from the fact that the original 
grantors of the two charters knew noth- 
"Jg of the origin or course of rivers in 
v "cw Hampshire. They supposed that 
llie Merrimack rose in the west and ran 

eastward, as it does from Dracut to Xew- 
buryport. The union, for a time, post- 
poned this territorial controversy. John 
Mason, the proprietor of Xew Hampshire, 
died in 1G35. His heirs were unable to 
find in the colony honest agents to take 
care of their property. The goods and 
cattle of Capt. Mason were removed from 
the plantations and sold in Nova Scotia 
and Boston. Norton, the chief proprie- 
tary agent, drove one hundred head of 
cattle to Boston and sold them for twen- 
ty-five pounds sterling a head ; and, for 
aught that appears, appropriated the 
money. This valuable stock had been 
imported at great expense from Den- 

The colonists, being left without gov- 
ernors or overseers, formed separate polit- 
ical combinations for the better protec- 
tion of their own property and lives. 
This handful ot men, brought from their 
homes three thousand miles away and 
planted in the wilderness, without ctli- 
cieut political or ecclesiastical organiza- 
tion, could not have been very formida- 
ble as foes or influential as friends. It is 
matter of astonishment that they had 



not. before this date, been swept away 
by cold, hunger, nakedness, pirates, sav- 
ages or domestic thieves. Such were 
the founders of a sovereign State. Poor 
and powerless as the}" were, they were 
cordially welcomed by Massachusetts. 
Important concessions were made In their 
favor, and no new exactions were im- 
posed. Henceforth, the laws of Massa- 
chusetts ruled New Hampshire. In pro- 
cess of time the religion, schools and 
social customs of the more powerful 
State prevailed in New Hampshire. 

At the time of the union of these two 
colonies New England contained about 
four thousand families, or about twenty 
thousand souls. These had been mostly 
brought from England in twenty years, 
in one hundred and ninety-eight ships. 
Only one of these was lost at sea. This 
fact indicates that navigation at that day 
in small, slow-sailing ships, was quite as 
safe as that of steamers at the present 
day. A descent from these families is 
regarded by many as equivalent to a 
patent of nobility. The New Englanders 
have been the founders of many new 
States, as well as promoters of all good 
institutions in the old. The early laws 
of Massachusetts were terribly severe. 
As many as ten offences were deemed 
capital. The laws of Moses were the 
models of these enactments. The Rev. 
John Cotton, the first minister of Boston, 
sat in Moses' seat, and, as the represent- 
ative of Jehovah, dictated his will. He 
boldly asserted that "the government 
[of Massachusetts] might be considered 
as a theocracy, wherein the Lord was 
Judge, Lawgiver and King; that the 
laws he gave Israel might be adopted, so 
far as they were of moral and perpetual 
equity; and that the people might be 
considered as God's people in covenant 
with him; that none but persons of 
approved piety and eminent gifts should 
be chosen as rulers; that the ministers 
should be consulted in all matters of 
religion, and that the magistrate should 
have ' a superintending and coercive 
power over the churches." Here is a 
union of church and state unparalleled in 
power and influence. The meaning of 
this quotation is, that God alone is king 
and John Cotton is his prophet, The 

persons and dignities of priests and mag- 
istrates became inviolable by word or 
deed. The reviling of officers in church 
and state, and blasphemy of the Trinity 
were visited with fearful penalties. Tol- 
eration was a crime; the venerable Hig- 
ginson of Salem, pronounced it "the first- 
born of all abominations.*' Liberty of 
conscience, in any form, was deemed the 
worst enemy of government and religion. 
This theocratic government also under- 
took to regulate the thoughts, words, 
deeds, dress, food and expenditures of 
every man, woman and child in the col- 
ony. The shield of this divine govern- 
ment was extended over New Hamp- 
shire ; and her magistrates and ministers 
attempted to be as severe as those of the 
Bay State; but the refractory materials 
they had to deal with, did not readily 
and kindly yield to the pressure of pow- 
er. Some portion of the bigotry, intol- 
erance and persecution of Massachusetts 
Puritans, migrated to New Hampshire 
with their laws. The result was a few 
prosecutions of witches and Quakers; 
but no capital convictions. After the 
lapse of a century, some disabilities and 
distraint of goods for the support of "the 
standing order" of clergy, were inflicted 
on dissenters from the established creed. 
This petty intolerance continued till 
about 1813, when the Toleration Act be- 
came a law in New Hampshire. 

These inconsiderable evils of the union 
were counterbalanced by numerous and 
important advantages. New Hampshire 
was elevated in morality and strength- 
ened in government, by her connection 
with the larger and stronger state. She 
also borrowed her school system, her 
academies and college from the same 
source. Free schools were established 
in Boston in 1635. Massachusetts adopt- 
ed and enforced her admirable system 
of town schools, free shcools, where 
every child in the Commonwealth could 
learn to "read, write and cypher," as 
early as 1617. Every town ol fifty fam- 
ilies was required to establish a school 
both for the rich and poor. Thus edu- 
cation was brought to every man's door. 
This system has since been adopted by 
most of the States in the Union. 

In 16-19, the records of Hampton show 



that provision was made by the town for 
teaching all the children of the town, 
male and female, "tci write and read 
and cast accounts." The other towns 
were not slow to follow this wise prece- 
dent. Xew Hampshire has ever been 
ready, except when absolute poverty 
prevented, to give a common school edu- 
cation to all the children within her bor- 
ders. . 

She also attempted, in imitation of the 
more powerful State, to regulate social 
intercourse, manners and dress by sump- 

tuary laws. In Massachusetts, the 
drinking of healths, the use of tobacco, 
the wearing of long hair, the use of gold 
or silver lace, unless the wearer was 
worth two hundred pounds, were offences 
presentable by the Grand Jury. The 
gowns of women were required to be 
closed round the neck and the sleeves 
must reach to the wrists. These minute 
and vexatious laws were adopted for a 
time in Xew Hampshire. They disap- 
peared with increasing light and cul- 

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For nearly half a century Daniel H. 
Cujhstie, whose long and honorable ca- 
reer was recently closed by death, stood 
iu the front rank among the great law- 
yers of Xew Hampshire. For the great- 
er portion of the time, at least, his was 

recognized, if not by the public generally, 
certainly by the Court and the bar, as 
the master legal mind of the State. Per- 
haps no more appropriate outline of his 
character and career can be presented 
than that embodied in the following eu- 



logy, delivered by Col. Daniel Hall, upon 
the presentation to the Court of the reso- 
lutions recently adopted by the Strafford 
County Bar in honor of the deceased: 


May it please your Honor: 

I rise to formally announce an event, 
the unwelcome intelligence of which has 
already come to the Court by common 
report. The Hon. Daniel M. Christie, 
the most distinguished member of this 
bar, and the most eminent counsellor of 
this Court, departed tills life, at his resi- 
dence in this city, on the 8th day of 
December last, at the advanced age of 
86 years. His brethren of the bar of 
Strafford County, whose leader, and or- 
nament, and pride he was for so many 
years, profoundly impressed by this 
event, and desiring to do whatever is in 
their power to acknowledge the suprem- 
acy, illustrate the virtues, and honor the 
memory of this great man, have with en- 
tire unanimity, adopted resolutions ex- 
pressive of the higli sense entertained by 
the bar of the eminent character and ser- 
vices of Mr. Christie, and their sincere 
sympathy and condolence with those 
friends whom his loss affected more 
nearly ; and have, with a partiality which 
I gratefully acknowledge, imposed upon 
rne the honorable duty of presenting 
them to the Court. In the performance 
of that duty, I will, by leave of the 
Court, read the resolutions which have 
been adopted by the bar, and respect- 
fully move that they be entered upon the 
records of the Court : 

Resolved, That we have heard with pro- 
found sensibility of the death of the Hon. 
Daniel M. Christie, the oldest and most 
distinguished member of this bar, who 
has by a long life of arduous labor, 
fidelity to duty, and spotless integrity in 
every relation of life, adorned and eleva- 
ted the profession of the law, and impart- 
ed dignity and luster to the jurisprudence 
of our State. 

Resolved, That in the long, honorable 
and conspicuous career of Mr. Christie — 
chiefly as a counsellor and advocate at 
this bar— distinguished by great learn- 
ing, sound judgment, unwearied indus- 
try and unsurpassed fidelity to every per- 
sonal and professional obligation, we 
recognize those qualities which entitled 
him to the respect and veneration whjch 

were universally entertained for him; 
and that, by his wisdom, prudence, and 
conscientious attention to all the duties 
oi good citizenship, he exerted a great and 
salutary influence upon the community in 
which he lived. 

Resolved, That we take pride in record- 
ing our high estimate of his extraordi- 
nary intellectual endowments, his exalted 
principles, and elevated standard of 
private and professional morality, and 
commend his virtues and excellencies of 
character to the imitation of the mem- 
bers of the profession which he pursued 
with such assiduity, and such remarkable 
honor and success. 

Resolved, That we deeply sympathize 
with the family of Mr. Christie in the 
bereavement which has deprived them of 
an indulgent father and faithful friend, 
and respectfully offer them such consola- 
tion as may be found in the heartfelt 
condolence of the bar. whose leader and 
exemplar he was for nearly fifty 
years, and whose affection and veneration 
he had gained by his pre-eminent abili- 
ties and blameless life. 

Resolved, That the Secretary commu- 
nicate a copy of these resolutions to the 
family of Mr. Christie, and that the 
Committee present them to the Court 
now in session in this county, with the 
request of the bar that they be entered 
upon its records. 

May it please your Honor : 

I should be doing injustice to my own 
feelings on this occasion, if I were to re- 
frain from adding a few words at least to 
the expressions of grief and sensibility 
which these resolutions contain. 

This, of all places in the world, could 
our deceased elder brother have selected 
the scene, would he have chosen to have 
pronounced above his grave whatever of 
honorable praise he had earned by a life 
of high exertion in an exalted profession, 
of incorruptible fidelity to every trust, 
and unsullied honor in all the relations 
of life. And here, certainly, in this 
building, whose walls will be forever 
associated with his name and his labors, 
it is appropriate that such honors as the 
living can pay to the dead should not. be 
denied to him. Others there are. older 
than myself, and whose opportunities of 
observation have extended over a larger 
period than mine, who can better inform 
the Court of the varied incidents of his 
long and useful life, and to their hands I 
shall mainly leave the task, contenting 



myself with a brief outline of his pro- 
fessional career, and some imperfect 
estimate of his powers and standing 
among the lawyers of his time. 

Mr. Christie was born at Antrim. N. II., 
ou the 15th of October, 1790. He had 
no adventitious aids in youth. He la- 
bored on a farm in his earlier years, and, 
without wealth, or powerful friends, or 
patronage to lean upon, after surmount- 
ing the obstacles usually encountered by 
farmers' sons in our agricultural towns, 
he entered Dartmouth College, and was 
graduated there in 1S15, at the head of a 
class of men of eminence, of which he 
was the last surviving member. He 
studied law three years in the office of 
James Walker of Peterborough, began 
the practice in York, Me., practiced there 
and at South Berwick till 1S23, when he 
removed to this city, where he ever after 
resided. He entered upon professional 
practice here with characteristic energy, 
pursued it with singular zeal and assi- 
duity, and rapidly rose in the estimation 
of the bench, the bar, and the public. 
He was contemporary of Jeremiah Mason, 
Jeremiah Smith,.Daniel Webster, Ichabod 
Bartlett, and George Sullivan — being 
about twenty-five years the junior of 
Smith and Mason, and but few years 
younger than the others. In the early 
years of his professional life those great 
men not infrequently appeared in the trial 
of causes in this county, and the old court 
house still stands here among us, which 
witnessed the stirring struggles of these 
intellectual gladiators, and whose walls 
resounded to the voices of their eloquence. 
With these high examples before him, 
and these high rivalries and contentions 
to stimulate him, he "must," in the lan- 
guage of Mr, Webster, '-have been unin- 
telligent indeed not to have learned 
something from the constant displays 
of that power which he had so much 
occasion to see and to feel" That he 
did learn much from that great inter- 
course and contention of kindred minds 
—the trophies of Miitiades disturbing his 
sleep — there is abundant evidence in the 
rapid and sure strides, no step backward, 
v.ith which he came up and forward, 
even among such rivals, to a high pro- 
fessional eminence. There are many 

proofs of the high respect with which all 
these great men, whose marvellous pow- 
ers gave dignity and luster to the bar of 
New Hampshire in its golden age. re- 
garded him and his attainments. He 
continued in the full practice of the law 
here for about fifty years, engaged in 
nearly every important case tried in this 
county up to since the year 1870— many 
years after the great luminaries of the 
law — the cotemporaries of his early pro- 
fessional life — had sunk below the hori- 

He had but little relish for public life, 
and never sought political office, although 
he had political principles and convic- 
tions of the most decided character, and 
took a deep and lively interest in all great 
public questions. He was, however. 
elected to the Legislature as early as 
1826, and during the next forty years he 
was returned to that body from the town 
and city of Dover, on eleven different 
occasions. This was about the entire 
extent of his holding public office. But, 
since he never refused the summons of 
the public to any duty, and was more 
than once a candidate for high station. \z 
may perhaps fairly be said that his ex- 
clusion from the higher walks of official 
life was mainly clue to the fact that dur- 
ing nearly his whole life he was not in 
accord with the political sentiments 
which controlled the State in which he 
lived. Many regrets have been express- 
ed that the doors of preferment were 
thus closed upon a man, who, serving 
his country in any conspicuous sphere, 
would have advanced its honor, secured 
its prosperity, elevated its dignity, en- 
lightened its mind, purified its morality, 
and lifted its policy to a higher plane of 
statesmanship. But certain I am that. 
this enforced exclusion from the councils 
of the nation cost Mr. Christie no pang.-? 
of regret — and that never for one mo- 
ment did it occur to him to secure that 
recognition which his great abilities 
merited by any subserviency to sentiments 
and methods which his reason and con- 
science did not accept. It was ever his 
aim, never forgotten— and his rule, never 
violated— to preserve his personal recti- 
tude, as the richest treasure any man can 



It would seem to be superfluous to 
speak of the intellectual greatness of Mr. 
Christie before a tribunal which has been 
so often charmed and enlightened by the 
displays of his power. But, unfor- 
tunately, so modest was the great man 
whose loss we uow deplore, so reserved, 
so careless of his achievements and fame, 
so content with circumscribing his pro- 
fessional employments almost within the 
limits of the small county in which he 
dwelt, and never, that I am aware of, 
going beyond his own State in a profes- 
sional capacity; and so fleeting indeed 
are the records and impressions of the 
nisi prius trials in which he principally 
gathered in his fame, so transitory even 
the remembrances of these conflicts and 
struggles which rapidly pass out of con- 
temporary memory and are gone forever, 
that it would seem desirable, if it might 
be, for the Court and the bar to place on 
record somewhere some suitable memo- 
rial of the intellectual power of such a 
man as Mr. Christie, — something which 
might rescue some of his striking traits 
of character from the oblivion that so 
soon shrouds the fame of the practicing 
lawyer, and inform the future generations 
of our people, and especially his succes- 
sors at the bar, that a great man has fal- 
len here and now. I trust, therefore, that 
your Honor, and my brothers of the 
bar who are to follow me in this tribute 
of respect to his memory, will commem- 
orate his remarkable gifts and services 
in language of enduring and permanent 
value, leaving "something so written to 
after times, as they should not willingly 
let it die." 

Mr. Christie did not reach his ultimate 
greatness, as some men do, at a bound, 
but his was a steady growth, and labo- 
rious ascent to the table lands of the 
law. Through a long series of arduous 
exertions, he "ever great and greater 
grew," until for years before his death 
I think the front rank, and the leader- 
ship — primus inter primes— of the front 
rank in the profession of the law was 
accorded to him by the universal voice 
of the profession and the bench in New 
Hampshire. So various and so large 
were his powers and his attainments that 
i tis difficult to make a critical analysis or 

estimate of his capacity. Mr. Webster 
said the characteristics of Mr. Mason's 
mind were real greatness, strength, and 
sagacity. I have often thought this con- 
cise summary to be equally true of and 
applicable to Mr. Christie. He was cer- 
tainly a man of extraordinary endow- 
ments, and these had been wonderfully 
cultivated, improved, invigorated and 
strengthened by the untiring industry 
of a long life given to the law with a 
singleness of heart and purpose, which 
disarmed the jealousy of that proverbially 
jealous mistress. He had prodigious in- 
dustry, and could work terribly. He had 
indomitable will and tenacity of purpose. 
He had good sense and sound judgment. 
He had a vast and exact memory. He 
had a logical and capacious understand- 
ing. In volume of intellect, in ability 
to grasp a legal proposition, or grapple 
with a problem jDr an argumeut — in pure 
and simple brain power — he certainly 
had no superior if any equal in Xew 
Hampshire in these later years of his 
life, and I doubt if in the annals of our 
illustrious jurisprudence, or iu the list of 
our great forensic names, he was ever 

He was not quick of apprehension — he 
was cautious, wary, and slow to advise. 
He never promoted litigation, but often 
discouraged it by refusing to give any 
guarantees of success. He observed the 
precept of old Polonius, to 

Of entrance to a quarrel; but, being in, 
Bear-'t that the opposed may beware of thee." 

When once engaged he was labori- 
ous to the last degree, and never came 
to the trial of a case without the most 
thorough, pains-taking and exhaustive 
preparation. He spared no time or labor — 
he turned the night into the day— he 
shrunk from no diligence or exhaustion — 
he studied his cases over and over, and 
through aud through, and looked at 
them in every possible aspect — and when 
he came to the trial, his thorough under- 
standing of his case, its weakness as 
well as its strength, his anticipation of 
every possible position of his adversary, 
and his complete devotion to his cause 
and his client, made him the most formi- 
dable antagonist any man could eu- 



counter. Entering the lists on some oc- 
casions with some of the leaders of the 
American bar, they found him a foeman 
worthy of their steel, and in the encoun- 
ters which ensued he was never vanquish- 
ed. Though so apparently timid and 
hesitating- at the outset, he had immense 
combativeness/and used to say that he 
loved the smell of battle. When once 
launched upon a trial, he was a great 
ship of the line moving into action and 
bearing down, black and frowning, upon 
his adversary, with all sails set, decks 
cleared, and every gun shotted to the 
muzzle. At such times he was a specta- 
cle of grandeur, and I appeal to your 
Honor, and everyfgentleman of the bar 
who has ever been put to the trying test 
of being his antagonist, that when he 
seated himself for the struggle, you 
always saluted him with homage, and 
felt that though he might be out-manoeu- 
vered or worsted by dexterity and adroit- 
ness in avoiding a close encounter, it 
were a hopeless struggle for any adver- 
sary who should come within range of 
his terrific broadside. 

Mr. Christie was less eloquent than 
many men in the ordinary acceptation 
of that term. But as an advocate before 
juries, and before the full bench upon great 
questions he was, nevertheless, great and 
almost invincible. He had not great read- 
iness, or fullness, or felicity of speech — 
he did not command a very copious 
vocabulary — but he had words enough to 
express the most vigorous thoughts and 
the most accurate shades of meaning. 
His great strength lay rather in his skill- 
ful presentation of strong points, and his 
logical and sinewy argument, simple, 
direct, ordinarily unadorned by any 
imagery, and free from any flights of 
fancy. He took no circuitous routes, 
but pressed straight home to his object 
with a pace so steady and strong and 
sustained that it could not fail to bring 
him to the. goal. He had great power 
of sarcasm and invective, and had a 
keen sense of the ludicrous, which 
Beeraed to me to be a late outgrowth of 
his mind, and to grow keener and sharp- 
er as he grew older. Many anecdotes 
"light be told illustrative of this quality, 
"Ut the bench and the bar remember 

vividly, I am sure, some of his later 
efforts on occasions of importance, when 
this mighty man would not only lift the 
Court, and jury, and spectators, up to his 
clear and luminous view of the law and 
the justice of his case, but amused aud 
sometimes convulsed all who heard him 
by his quaint humor, by curious turns of 
expression, and grotesque comparisons 
and illustrations, of the wit of which he 
seemed to be sublimely unconscious. 
But he never put himself on parade. 
These were all tributary to the stream of 
his argument and his purpose, and flowed 
in and along the channel of his reason 
and logic, like flowers on the bosom of 
the Mississippi. 

The degree of Doctor of Laws was 
conferred upon Mr. Christie by his Alma 
Mater in 1S57; and his acknowledged 
eminence as a jurist is abundantly attest- 
ed by the offer on two occasions of the 
Chief Justiceship of this Court — a Court 
which can boast that a Smith, a Richard- 
son, a Parker, and a Perley have occu- 
pied its highest seat. But he declined 
judicial station, although none can doubt 
that he would have filled and adorned it 
with consummate learning, wisdom and 
integrity. In fact, from all we know of 
him, we must believe him to have been 
equal to every possible occasion a 
lawyer might be called upon to meet, 
and I think it would be the unanimous 
opinion of the profession that he would 
have been as great and conspicuous in 
any forum as he was here. 

A glance at him showed him to be no 
ordinary man. His personal appearance 
was noble and commanding. His im- 
posing dignity, his austere demeanor, 
"his look, drawing audience, " his Jove- 
like head, and towering brow, singled 
him out as a king among men. As for 
myself, whatever the opinion of others 
may be, I long since concluded that my 
knowledge of other men had furnished 
me no measuring lines wherewith to 
estimate his full intellectual strength and 

Mr. Christie was bred to the Common 
Law, and his admiration for that noble 
science, for its severe methods, its intri- 
cate reasonings, and for its august uses 
and capacities as a means of determin- 



ing right and enforcing justice in 
civilized society was unbounded. For 
many years previous to his death he 
must have been the greatest living ex- 
positor among us of the Common Law 
of England, which Lord Coke called 
"the perfection of reason. " He did not 
take kindly to the modern codes of prac- 
tice, which, in his opinion, degraded the 
study of the law from a science to a 
trade, the tools of which any rude and 
untrained hand might wield. Nor was he 
in love any the more with the systems of 
Equity, which during the last fifty years 
have so much usurped the province and 
superseded, whether or not the}- have 
enlarged, the uses of the Common Law, 
and supplanted the forms of procedure 
which hadreceivedthe sanction of so many 
generations of great lawyers and judges. 
He seldom resorted to it in practice, 
and I have heard him on more than one 
occasion express his distrust of and im- 
patience with the loose methods of equity 
procedure by reference to the well known 
saying of Selden, that " equity is ac- 
cording to the conscience of him that is 
Chancellor, and as that is larger or nar- 
rower, so is equity. 'Tis all one as if 
they should make the standard for the 
measure Ave call a foot a Chancellor's 
foot; what an uncertain measure would 
this be? One Chancellor has a long foot, 
another a short foot, a third an indiffer- 
ent foot. 'Tis the same in the Chancel- 
lor's conscience." 

Of course it was a necessary and in- 
evitable corollary of such views that he 
should be conservative, and slow to 
sanction a departure from the settled 
principles of law and decisions of the 
Courts. But although stare decisis was 
his motto, no man was more bold and 
fearless than he in attacking anything 
which he was profoundly convinced was 
wrong, or unsupported by reason. The 
certainty of the law was to him of in- 
estimable value, but he held firmly 
to the letter and spirit of the maxim of 
the great judgment in Coggs vs. Bernard, 
that " nothing is law that is not Eeason." 

Such a man, so lavishly endowed by 
nature, so equipped by study and reflec- 
tion, and filling so large a space in the 
public eye, could not fail to impress him- 

self upon the judicial history of his time. 
An examination of our Reports cover- 
ing the period of his active professional 
lite, will prove that he has left his mark 
upon those discussions and adjudications 
which have fashioned the jurisprudence 
of our State, and rounded out the body 
of law here framed iu statutes and de- 
cisions into harmonious proportions, 
that command the respect of the profes- 
sion and of publicists in all parts of 
America and Europe. 

But any sketch of Mr. Christie's 
character would be imperfect and unjust 
to his memory which should fail to call 
attention to the high ethical tone of his 
prolessional life. He was the very em- 
bodiment of a high professional morality. 
He had a profound reverence for the 
law, and he would as soon have poisoned 
his neighbor's spring, as knowingly cor- 
rupt the fountains of justice, two atroci- 
ties which my Lord Bacon has some- 
where, I believe, compared and likened. 
The same great philosopher and moralist 
lays it down that ,; the greatest trust 
between man and man is the trust of 
giving counsel;" and the celebrated 
barrister, Charles Phillips, said that 
" the moment counsel accepts a brief, 
every faculty he possesses becomes his 
client's property. It is an implied con- 
tract between him and the man who 
trusts him." Mr. Christie fully accepted 
this code of professional obligation, and 
his surrender of himself and all his pow- 
ers to his client was as complete and ab- 
solute as it could be, consistently with 
the restraints of truth and honor. When 
he accepted his brief, whether the case 
was small or large, his client rich or 
poor — that client knew that he had se- 
cured all there was of him — his large 
brain — his unrivalled industry — his pa- 
tience in research — his infinite attention 
to details — and that nothing which lay in 
human power would be spared to insure 
success. The members of this bar will 
recall memorable instances of this con- 
scientious fidelity to his client and his 
cause, where he expended the energies 
of a giant upon causes ot slight impor- 
tance, in which nothing of moment was 

He also had a great respect and defer- 



nice for the bench, and was loftily above 
the meanness of attempting to influence 
the Court improperly, or to secure its 
approval of his views by any other 
means than the soundness of his argu- 
ment and the justice of his cause. Xo 
man ever more scrupulously kept the 
oath, and every part of it. which the 
attorney of the Court takes when he 
assumes the duties of his office. 

lie employed his efforts and influence 
to raise and purify the character of the 
profession. i; ancient as magistracy and 
necessary as justice;" and no maxim 
was more insisted upon by him than that 
which " holds every man a debtor to his 
profession, from the which as men of 
course do seek to receive countenance and 
profit, so ought they of duty to endeavor- 
themselves by way of amends to be a 
help and ornament thereunto." I know 
whereof I speak, because personal obser- 
vation has taught me, that he never pros- 
tituted his great powers to improper or 
even cmestionable purposes. In those 
delicate questions of professional duty 
which arise in every extended practice, 
he gave the doubt against his own in- 
terest. There were classes of cases, 
especially certain defences, in which, in- 
fluenced by high views of public morality 
and policy, he invariably refused to 
accept a retainer, without, however, im- 
puting anything improper or unprofes- 
sional to others who entertained opinions 
Rnd adopted practices less fastidious in 
that regard. Nothing would induce him 
to appear in any capacity which could be 
construed into an apology for certain 
offences against the law. In this I am 
aware that he differed loto ccdo from 
other lawyers not less eminent, and not 
l°ss honorable, perhaps, than himself— 
and I only mention it as a certain proof 
of his high and scrupulous character as 
»n advocate, and that he thought the 
'"'ties of good citizenship were para- 
mount to every personal consideration. 
He believed a lawyer's honor was his 
brightest jewel, and to be kept unsullied, 
oven by the breath of suspicion. He 
*as straightforward, honorable and sin- 
'< re to the last degree. He had no 
jovert or indirect ways. He had no arts 
l ' u( - manly arts; and sooner than any 

man I ever knew would I select him as a 
model to be imitated in this respect. 

There is one thing which, at the ri-k 
of being tedious, I wish specially to note 
to-day. and which I feel called upon to 
say in behalf of the man)* men who have 
sat. at the feet of this Gamaliel of the 
law. In the name of all the generations 
of his students I wish to bear testimony 
that in the relation of master and pupil 
he was one of the most instructive, en- 
tertaining, kind and indulgent men in 
the world. In his office the austerity 
which he wore in public largely disap- 
peared. The bow was unbent, and his 
treatment of his students, without dis- 
tinction of persons, was marked by a 
uniform high courtesy, resx>ect, and 
familiar unrestraint. He was ever ready 
to pour out his knowledge, the matured 
fruits of his experience and labor, in 
copious streams of delightful talk and 
reminiscence, in which he brought back 
vividly before the listener the varied in- 
cidents of his long professional career, 
his contests at the bar, his personal 
recollections of great men, and the cir- 
cumstances attending the settlement, one 
by one, of the main principles of our 
jurisprudence. At such times, when the 
springs of his rich and inexhaustible 
memory were unlocked, he would come 
nearer to neglecting business and clieuts 
than on any other occasion, as he turned 
aside to linger with the scenes that came 
trooping from the chambers of the past. 
Xo one, I venture to say, who has ever 
enjoyed the rare privilege of being his 
pupil will fail to appreciate and endorse 
what I now say, and to recall some hours 
thus spent as among the most valuable 
and best of his life. He treated his 
young men with a kindly interest, with 
helpfulness, and indulgence towards weak- 
ness, inexperience and ignorance of the 
law. and followed them through life with 
an affectionate regard, never hearing any 
good of them without rejoicing, nor any 
ill without sorrow and incredulity. 
These generous offices entitle him. so 
fai- as every one of them is concerned, to 
a lasting remembrance of the heart — to a 
personal attachment, admiration and 
veneration which never failed him in life, 
and is testified to-day by the sincere 



affection of every man who ever sat at 
his feet and learned of him. 

There was something very remarkable 
in the manner of his teaching. It is one 
of the distinguishing and certain marks 
of greatness in a man that he is in essen- 
tial respects unlike all other men. I think 
the acknowledged great men of history 
all respond to this test. Mr. Christie was 
emphatically a man of that stamp. Who 
was ever like him'? He was in all respects 
sui generis. In his personal character, his 
habits of mind, his methods of investi- 
gation, he was grand, solitary and pe- 
culiar, and his image stands out among 
lawyers as clear and distinct as that of 
William Finkney, or Jeremiah Mason, or 
Daniel Webster, or Kufus Choate. And 
in such a powerful manner did he impress 
his characteristics upon his pupils that 
he may be almost said to have been the 
founder of a school of legal study and 
dialectics, as Socrates was of a philoso- 
phy of investigation, and his was as 
severe, and rigid, and thorough. There 
have been many, indeed, who looked 
upon him as their intellectual father — 
many illustrious names who have pre- 
ceded him to the grave, and others who 
still live to be the lights of the bar and 
the forum. Although he imparted facts 
and principles with a lavish hand, it was, 
after all, the spirit of his teachings which 
was of most value to the student. Those 
of us who are grateful to him, and to the 
influence of his mind and character, as 
many of us are, for what we feel to be 
best and most valuable iu our culture and 
training, are grateful not so much for any 
direct precepts as for that inspiring lift 
which only genius can supply to the fac- 
ulties. He fecundated all minds that 
came under his sway, and so contagious 
were his elevated morality and his ardor 
in the pursuit of truth, that any pupil of 
his who should not exhibit some of his 
characteristics in his life and career would 
indeed be unintelligent or morally de- 

If I could linger to do so, I might re- 
count Mr. Christie's career in other 
spheres of business, and find in it titles 
quite as high to the honor and respect of 
the community as he won for himself in 
his chosen profession. He was an officer 

for many } r ears in several of our largest 
corporations, and discharged his respon- 
sibilities in that capacity with the same 
high scrupulousness, the same industry, 
and the same conscientious fidelity to his 
trust which actuated him in the law. He 
impressed all the financial institutions iu 
which he had any directory part, for 
their good, and ours, and the good of the 
community, with the stamp of his own 
sturdy integrity, solidity and soundness. 
In fine, upon whatever theatre of action 
he moved, he exhibited a grandeur and 
individuality of character, a high princi- 
ple and nice sense of honor, which made 
him worthy of the imitation of all who 
are to succeed him in the high places of 
life. He had in a large degree the home- 
bred virtues of his Scotch-Irish ancestry, 
mingled with much of the spirit and fla- 
vor of the great men of antiquity — the 
indomitable will — the severe simplicity — 
the rugged integrity — the uncompromis- 
ing hatred of dishonesty and wrong — the 
genuine contempt for weakness and pre- 
tence — the austere private virtue—the 
unconsciousness of great genius. 

In this hasty and imperfect sketch of 
Mr. Christie's characteristics I have but 
one thing further to present, and I am 
glad that I am not obliged to close with- 
out saying this which ought most to en- 
dear him to the common men and women 
whom he has left behind him. I am able 
to say from personal knowledge what is 
confirmed by affectionate unanimity by 
his family, that in the home circle he 
was always sweet, kind, considerate and 
indulgent. The private life of many a 
man of genius is a domain which cannot 
be entered with safety, or prudence, or 
delicacy. How different it was with Mr. 
Christie ! Here is no forbidden ground — 
and how thankful to God we are and 
ought to be to-day, that here was one 
great and famous man, upon every hour 
and act of whose private life and inter- 
course with friends and family the light 
of noon-day might be turned with micro- 
scopic power and find no stain or impu- 
rity. That he was upright, exemplary 
and decorous before the world we all 
know. But he was more. lie was 
sound and sweet to the core. He had a 
singular, almost infantile guilelessness of 



mind, and cleanness of speech and imagi- 
nation. The inevitable contact with 
lice and depravity which came to him 
through the varied experiences of a long 
life, passed in attending to the concerns 
of others, bad left him pure, and inno- 
r.Mit. and uncontaminated. He was like 
»• the sun. which passeth through pollu- 
tions and itself remains as pure as be- 
fore." In this respect he was fortunate 
beyond most men. Suspicion never as- 
lailed his private life, and slander fled 
abashed from his presence. 

I am not here to say that Mr. Christie 
w3S without faults. To say that would 
be to think and ask others to believe him 
more than human. But they were fewer 
than ordinarily fall to the lot of men, 
and bore the impress of his great facul- 
ties, and his life of arduous labor and 
M-lf-dependence. It is a siugular fact 
tint while his foibles were such as to be 
ipparant to the casual observer, some of 
hi- virtues were known only to those 
who knew intimately the tenor of his 
daily life. Those who knew him best 
most unreservedly respected and ad- 
mired him. He took no pains to conceal 
himself. He never courted or flattered 
the people. He cared not for applause — 
and if he loved and sought wealth, he 
sought it by no unworthy means, and 
lived and died with clean hands. 

As I recall his last days I cannot fail 
to recognize how fitting and satisfactory 
was the manner of his death. He had 
laid oft* the harness of his busy profes- 
lional life, and sat down in the evening 
of his days by his own fireside in the 
*aered seclusion of that family circle of 
*hose social affections he was the en- 
ured and venerated centre. But the 
*:**-at mind could not bo. inactive, aud he 
turned with delight from "the gladsome 
• ght of jurisprudence'' to some of the 
' chanting English authors whose en- 
/.v merits had been denied him by the 
' Jr "s and exactions of a busy career. 
1 «n told that Scott, and Dickens, and 
n ^' > kf-ray. and our other English clas- 
* lc * were the charm and consolation of 
1 ™ years, and were enjoyed with 
"'« keen relish of that untainted and re- 
"Hjvemind. In the midst of these be- 
'■'"ing diversions, not unmingled with 

studies in the domain of the august pro- 
fession which he so much loved, he was 
called away from these scenes. 

"O fallen at length, that tower of strength, 
Which stood four-square to all the winds that 

The Xestor of our bar is dead — 
" Clarum et venerabile nomen!" 
and, now that, he is gone, we feel and see 
Avhat a large space he filled in the ranks 
of the profession. Certainly it may ap- 
propriately be said of him, as was said of 
Jeremiah Mason by his great compeer, 
Eufus Choate : "He is dead; and al- 
though here and there a kindred mind — 
here and there, rarer still, a coeval mind 
— survives, he has left no one, beyond 
his immediate blood and race, who in 
the least degree resembles him." 

I rejoice with his friends, as all must, 
that until the last hour of his long and 
useful life, until disease struck him, as it 
were in a moment, from the list of the liv- 
ing, his eye was undimmed and his won- 
derful faculties wholly unimpaired. En- 
dowed by nature with a vigorous consti- 
tution, and temperate, upright and ab- 
stemious in his habits ever, he had suf- 
fered scarcely an hour of sickness during 
his entire life, and up to almost the very 
momemt of its fall there were no signs 
of dilapidation in that stately edifice. 
His majestic presence was in our streets, 
the venerable object of all men's respect 
and regard. 

" The monumental pomp of age 
Was with this goodly Personage; 
A statue undepressed in size, 
Unbent, which rather seemed to rise, 
In open victory o'er the weight 
Of eighty years, to loftier height." 

And so, at last, after a life of honor, of 
integrity, of purity, of strenuous exer- 
tion, all crowned by a renown sufficient 
to till nnd which did till and satisfy a 
reasonable ambition, he has fallen on 
sleep. Folding his arms upon his breast, 
his change came to him as calmly and 
serenely as'a summer sunset mellows the 
scene and gilds the close of a brave and 
beautiful day. 

"Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail 
Oi knock- the breast,no w*-akne-s,no contempt, 
Dispraise or blame, nothing but well and fair, 
And what may quiet u.s in a death so noble." 

To speak the truth of Mr. Christie, in 
such fashion as I can, is to me a labor of 
love. Although in earlier year3 I was an 



occasional spectator of some of the foren- 
sic contests in which he won his fame. I 
was not honored by his personal ac- 
quaintance till about eighteen years ago, 
when I became a student in his oiiice. 
He was then at the zenith of his power 
and reputation, and the high estimate I 
had already formed of his abilities and 
his character was heightened day by day 
by the knowledge which I gained of him 
in an intercourse which lasted many 
years — which I may perhaps without van- 
ity style an intimacy — and which suf- 
fered no interruption till the day of his 
death. If I may be allowed a word of 
sensibility personal to myself, I would 
say that he was so uniformly kind, and 

gracious, and condescending to me, from 
the first hour of our acquaintance, that I 
felt his death an irreparable personal loss, 
and was a sincere mourner at his grave. 
And as I linger a moment to drop a tear 
on his bier. I feel an unfeigned sorrow 
that I cannot pay a more suitable ar.d 
adequate tribute to his extraordinay ge- 
nius and the rare virtues of his character. 
But only kindred minds are able to por- 
tray the qualities of such a mind and 
heart, and I console myself for failure 
with the reflection that but few remain 
who can appreciate and delineate for the 
coming generations a man so largely 
moulded and so richly gifted as he. 




" Please to be seated," she said coldly, 
at the same time seating herself upon the 
opposite side of a table from the chair 
designated for him. 

" Have you no word of welcome for 
me?" he asked. 

" None," she replied, 'II had not ex- 
pected to see you so soon. I hope to raise 
the interest on the mortgage before an- 
other year becomes due ; and I have your 
pledge that, if this is done, I can remain 

" But the taxes?" 

u I will try and pay them, too." 

"How? You can not do it. I know 
your resources better than you think. 
There is but one way for you to avoid 
trouble; and in anticipation of the result 
of our present interview I beg you to ac- 
cept my gift." 

As he said this, he placed before her 
an open casket containing an elegant 
gold watch and chain, with a set of 
pearls. Tbcy were more beautiful than 

anything she had ever seen, and she 
had anlinstinctive love of beauty and lux- 

" These for me ! " she murmured ab- 
sently, as she looked at them with admi- 
ration, while he regarded her with a fixed 

"They are for you, and they are as 
nothing compared with what I will lav- 
ish upon you as my wife. Begis, too, 
shall have all things ;" and having left 
his seat while speaking, he bent over her 
as if to seal his words with a kiss. 

This recalled her to a sense of her dan- 
ger. She pushed aside the casket, and 
stood confronting him as she said calmly : 

" I am not to be bought with gold or 
jewels. I am a poor girl, but I will never 
be your wife. Never ! Never ! Do you 
believe me now?" she asked, with bitter 

u I believe that you will repent of what 
you have done." he answered hoarsely. 
You may as well be looking out for an 


oil er home. You shall not stay here 
unless every dollar which is my duo is 
I id ;.i the proper time. 5 ' 

The sound of wheels arrested his at- 
tention and interrupted his angry words. 
lie had only time to dispose of the casket 
and reach the door before Mr. Eldridge 
eame in sight ; while from another direc- 
tion came Aunt Jane, walking hurriedly. 
lie made all possible haste, but could 
not avoid a meeting with both. 

'. ; You are the very person I wished to 
see," said the clergyman. " I have some 
business to transact with you, and, as it 
concerns Miss Dunlap, we may as well 
arrange it in her presence. I am author- 
ized to pay the claim 'you hold upon her 
estate, and so lift the mortgage. I have 
the money with me." 

k; Who has authorized you to do this?" 

iw A friend of Mrs. Bradshaw. One 
who owed her a debt of gratitude, and 
chooses to make payment for the benefit 
of her heir." 

-Who is the friend?" 

" The friend chooses to remain un- 

Aunt Jane nodded her head approving- 
ly and listened in silence until reference 
was made to the taxes. 

" Peter Greenleaf, I know all about 
that, and I'll jest settle them taxes my- 
self. Then Elsie can pay me when she 
gits ready. You see there's provision 
made all 'round. Elsie, jest come out 
here and see what's goin' on, and if 
you've got anything to say, say it," 

At this summons from Aunt Jane, Elsie 
Dunlap appeared, able only to express 
her gratitude and delight in a voice brok- 
en with sobs. 

Disappointed, mortified and angry, the 
rich man drove away, conscious that he 
was an object of contempt to at least two 
of the group he left standing at the cot- 
tage door. Convinced that nothing could 
be done to prevent the settlement he 
gladly would have avoided, he resolved 
to yield the point without further debate. 
But who could have advanced the means 
for doing this'? He thought of one and 
another, rejecting each and all. It could 
lot be Aunt Jane, and he thought him- 
self nearly as certain in regard, to every 
person in town. 


When he reached home he threw the 
casket into a drawer which closed with a 
spring lock, and wished he might never 
see it again. Then he prepared for busi- 
ness, sure that Mr. Eldridge would not 
long delay, and desiring to make the in- 
terview as short as possible. This accom- 
plished, he had ample time to brood over 
his thwarted plans, and scheme for re- 
venge. The minister would find that he 
had made a powerful enemy. 

But in making this one enemy he found 
that he had also made many friends, and 
that the self-denial upon which he had 
counted would be of short duration. Elsie 
and Regis Dunlap could repay a small 
part of their indebtedness, and Aunt Jane 
volunteered to wait indefinitely for what 
was her due, 

i; There ain't no danger of my losin' it, 
and I don't want it to use ; and, you see, 
I guess the minister needs every dollar 
that belongs to him, and he ought to have 
it. I shouldn't wonder, too. if he got a 
real donation 'fore long. Folks are talk- 
in' about it. No matter if His done 
to spite Peter Greenleaf, it'll help along 
jest the same. We'd better have it purty 
soon after Thanksgiving, and every one 
carry somethin'. Cam says that's the 
way, and he's a good sensible youngster. 
He's goin' to aim a good deal this win- 
ter, though I never see nobody so bound 
up with a book as he is. He can see 
through things qnicker'n most folks. 
I've told him more'n once he ought to be 
a lawyer, and mebbe he could upset the 
title to them two thousand acres folks 
say don't belong to Peter any more than 
they do to me. Your granma'am thought 
it might be done." 

" 1 wish it might, but it will take some- 
body smarter than Cam Bassettto do it." 

;t I don't know about that, and I guess 
you don't. You jest wait and see." 

People were seeing strange things 
without long waiting. It really seemed 
that the single revolt against their avari- 
cious townsman had inspired them with 
courage and boldness to speak of him as 
lie deserved; while the economy prac- 
ticed by two who had been regarded as 
children was a stimulus to retrenchment 
and thrift in other households encuni- 
b ered with debt. 



But despite economy and retrench- 
ment; despite, also, opposition in certain 
quarters, the origin of which was easily 
traced, Mr. Eldridge received substan- 
tial tokens of the good will of his parish- 
ioners. He was enriched in pocket, lar- 
der and wardrobe ; so that the winter 
opened auspiciously for the dwellers in 
the parsonage as well as in the cottage 
of Elsie Dunlap, and the little brown cot- 
tage where Aunt Jane Shorey rose every 
morning before the sun to prepare break- 
fast and lunch for Cameron Bassett. 

For the first time in his life the young 
man knew something of the comforts of 
a home; and, receiving much, gave much 
in return. He seldom returned from his 
work in the evening without bringing 
some tribute from the forest ; sometimes 
a bit of moss or lichen, or peculiar 
growth of wood; and sometimes wild 
game, which was always shared with 
their neighbors, who thus enjoyed a sim- 
ple luxury which was fully appreciated. 
He never failed to come up to the full 
measure of work he set himself to do; 
neither did he fail to meet his weekly ap- 
pointment with the clergyman, who 
found him a scholar of rare quickness and 

" You ought to do better by yourself 
than you can do here," his teacher said to 
him as the winter waned. 

" Yes, sir; I am going to try and do 
better. I have seen a man and talked 
with him who promised to write and tell 
me where to go. It's almost time for the 

" Is the man reliable?" 

"I don't know that. sir. I never saw 
him but once. I must wait to know." 

He did not say how he had made the 
acquaintance of the gentleman who was 
to write to him. He was not one to boast 
of his good deeds, but that a good deed 
had been done my readers may be as- 
sured, and the event proved that his con- 
fidence was not misplaced when he as- 
sumed that the stranger to whom he had 
rendered an important service would have 
a regard fqr his interest. The letter 
came as expected, and. bidding adieu to 
his friends, who as yet knew not how to 
appreciate him, he went to try his for- 
tune in the same city from which, he had 

wandered years before without definite 
aim or purpose. 

" Whatever 1*11 do without him I don't 
kuow," said Aunt Jane in a husky voice. 
"I never had no child, so I don't know 
how mothers feel, but I think enough of 
him: and I tell you what, Elsie, he'll be 
comin' back sometime and show folks 
what he can do. The minister and I 
know more'n the rest of you." 

" You have had a better opportunity to 
know, but lie has been very kind to Regis 
and me. He has helped us in a good 
many ways." 

" And you've helped him; so I guess 
you needn't feel none in debt to him. 
He's gom' to write to me, and you'll have 
to answer the letters for me. I never 
was no hand at writin' nor much at read- 
in', so I guess you'll be the one, after 

Now that the young man was really 
gone, people began to speak of him as 
one likely to make his mark in the world. 
His letters were always cheerful and 
hopeful, always expressing, too, the soli- 
citude he felt for the friends whom he 
gratefully remembered. 

In the meantime, important changes 
were taking place in the hitherto quiet 
town. A water privilege had been pur- 
chased by a manufacturing company who 
were making rapid improvements. This 
gave a new impetus to business, created 
a demand for dwelling houses, and 
brought a market to the very doors of 
the farmers. 

Peter Greenleaf still lived, eager to in- 
crease his wealth, and in no way less un- 
scrupulous ; yet he found himself every 
year more unpopular and unhappy. 
Aunt Jane Shorey would never allow his 
folly and wickedness to be forgotten. She 
believed that he deserved punishment, 
and was quite willing to aid in its inflic- 
tion. There had been rumors of his in- 
tended marriage, yet he had brought no 
bride to his home. There was now and 
then a whisper that, as "the town worked 
up," there might be trouble for him in 
regard to the titles of certain lands it 
was claimed he had obtained dishonestly. 

A lawyer was about to establish him- 
self in the thriving little village; one who 
would bring with him ample credentials 


at to his ability and acquirements. At 
length the sign appeared, conspicuous in 
black and gold: 

" Cameron Bassett." 

Spectacles were re-adjusted, as if their 
owners feared there might be some opti- 
ca! illusion. But there was the name; 
tnd after the closest inspection the let- 
ters did not change. 

Moreover, Aunt Jane had company; 
tnd. besides, a tall, bearded man had 
been seen talking with Regis Dunlap. It 
might be. but if it was, "he looked so dif- 
ferent there wouldn't anybody know 

It teas Cameron Bassett, with the very 
game honest, earnest heart and clear head 
which had characterized him when his 
lace was browned by exposure, and his 
hands hardened with work few others 
would have performed. He was wel- 
comed, not over cordially, at first, but 
with gradually increasing respect. What- 
ever business was entrusted to him was 
faithfully discharged. The illness of a 
brother attorney gave him au earl}- op- 
portunity to appear in a ease in which he 
won the admiration of all who heard his 
masterly plea, and thus his professional 
and social position were assured. 

Not long after, he was consulted in re- 
gard to the probable success of a suit, 
which, if entered, would doubtless be. 
sharply contested by the best counsel 
that money could procure. The plain- 
tiffs were too poor to run a heavy risk 
without a reasonable prospect of gaining 
their suit. 

Mr. Bassett engaged to study it up, 
and give them his honest opinion. It 
would afford him just the occupation he 
desired. Records were examined; old 
and forgotten titles brought to light and 
compared, and letters written to individ- 
uals in various parts of the country; all 
done secretly, for fear of consequences. 
At length there was but one link missing 
to the chain of evidence, and after long 
*nd fruitless search this was discovered 
where least expected. Every test was 
H>phed to prove or disprove its genuinc- 
! -* ■-■ until not a doubt remained that 
Peter Greenleaf had been guilty of a stu- 
pendous fraud, which could be clearly 
proved against him. 

At the first intimation of this he knew 
his hour of retribution had come. Ho 
had himself sought for the missing link, 
and failing in his search, trusted that it 
did not exist. Now all was over. D<-- 
fence was useless. He was a ruined man, 
and chose death rather than disgrace and 
poverty. He died by his own hand. and. 
leaving no will, his heirs claimed the 

They would not lose the large estate 
without making an effort to retain it : but 
their case was lost before it was tried, 
and although carried into court, resulted 
in no good to any one except Cameron 
Bassett, who made a rare desplay ot ora- 
tory and won a munificent fee. 

A week after the decision he called 
upon Elsie Dunlap. who, after congratu- 
lating him upon his well earned laurels, 
said : 

t; Xow that you have proved yourself 
so skillful a detective, I wish 3-011 would 
discover the person who paid Mr. Green- 
leaf the mortgage on this place. Mr. El- 
dridge says he is pledged to secresy. and 
it troubles me." 

" Why should it? " he asked. 

" Because I am unwilling to be under 
obligation to au unknown friend. Regis 
and I worked hard and lived plainly to 
earn and save money, that we might own 
our home, and still it is not our own. 
The money is at interest, waiting for my 
creditor, but I should be very much hap- 
pier if it was paid." 

Her companion looked at her smilingly 
until he saw that tears were gathering in 
her eyes, when he leaned towards her 
and asked : 

u Will you give me a kiss, in proof that 
your congratulations are sincere?" 

She had no time for consideration.' She 
only felt the unspoken love which sur- 
rounded her, and yielded to the proffered 

t; The mortgage is wholly cancelled.*' 
said her lover, when he could find words 
to express his happiness " Your grand- 
mother paid it in kindness to a poor boy 
who afterwards paid it in money to Mr. 

" Cameron Bassett ! Did you give the 
money to Mr. Eldridge to pay the mort- 
gage on this place?" exclaimed Elsie, in 


a tone which expressed all the surprise 
she felt. 

"I did, and now that I assure you I 
have been twice repaid I hope you will 
have no further trouble in regard to it. 
Jam satisfied, and you should be." 

Which assertion was not quite true; as 
Aunt Jane said he never would be satis- 
fled until Elsie Dunlap was his wife, and 
Regis was studying law; and Aunt Jane 
knew whereof she .affirmed. 


In 1812, a statistical work compiled by 
Teacb Coxe, and published by Congress, 
credited Xew Hampshire with having 12 
cotton mills, as follows : Two in Rock- 
ingham County, 1 in Strafford. S in Hills- 
borough, and 1 in Cheshire. These twelve 
mills contained 5,956 spindles, — but no 
looms, — only yarn being produced. 
There were 20,975 looms in the State, 
which wove this yarn into various grades 
of cloth. These looms were owned in 
private families, and the yarn taken from 
the factories and woven by the wives and 
daughters. Sometimes they purchased 
the yarn at the factories for their own 
private use, and at others they wove it 
into cloth for so much per yard, the price 
varying from two to twenty-live cents as 
to quality of cloth. 

The amount of cotton goods woven in 
the year 1810 was put down at 515,985 
yards ; mixed goods. 930, 97S yards ; flax 
goods, 1,090.320 yards; blended and un- 
blended cloths (towels, table cloths, 
&c.) 112,510 yards; tow-cloth, 720,939 
yards; woolen goods, 900.373 yards, 
making in the aggregate 4,271,1S5 yards, 
valued at SI, 700,417. The number of 
fulling-mills in the State at that date was 
135, and 497.500 yards of cloth was fulled, 
dressed, &c, for the year 1810. There 
was not enough clothing goods manufac- 
tured in the State for the consumption 
of the inhabitants in their frugal state of 
living, by many hundred thousand dol- 
lars' worth. There were 214.000 inhabi- 
tants in Xew Hampshire in 1810, and the 

amount of cloth manufactured that year 
for all purposes, would give to each per- 
son less than twenty yards, valued at 
about $8.20. 

An old veteran, writing from one of the 
towns in this State, says: "From my 
earliest recollection my mother's occu- 
pation, in addition to ordinary house- 
work, consisted in carding wool into 
rolls, spinning them into yarn, and 
weaving it into '•wale'' cloth and blan- 
keting—cutting the cloth into garments 
and making them. She also carded her 
flax and spun it into either linen thread 
or yarn for cloth. Nearly all the cloth 
consumed in our family of seven persons 
was manufactured by my mother. " Cal- 
ico dresses for the common people in 
1S10 were considered good enough to 
wear on any occasion, and at many a 
bridal festival. when as warm hearts beat 
with love and happiness as beat to-day, 
the calico dress adorned the females of 
the party. Calico in those days was 
worth from thirty to fifty cents per yard, 
cotton flannel forty-five, and cotton cloth 
3-4 of a yard wide, from twenty to thirty 

But what a vast change in this respect 
has taken place in less than 70 years. 
At the present time, with the depressed 
condition of business, New Hampshire is 
manufacturing at the rate of not less 
than 17,000,000 yards of woolen cloth of 
all varieties annually, valued at not less 
than $8,000,000, and 210,000,000 yards of 
cotton goods valued at about 822,000,000. 


This amount would give every man, would carpet a hall fifty feet wide, ex- 
woman and child in the State fifty-two tending from Boston to Washington, 
yards of woolen cloth, valued at 62-i, By such practical illustration wc are 
and seven hundred and thirty-eight yards enabled in some degree, to comprehend 
of cotton cloth, worth $70. The cotton the magnitude and increase of these great 
cloth would extend in a straight line branches of manufacturing in our State. 
136,000 miles, or live and one-half times We can hardly expect as great a change 
round the globe. If a yard wide, it in the same direction in the next seventy 
would cover 49,586 acres, or seventy-sev- years. A. J. Fogg. 
en square miles. The woolen cloth ■ 



" O stay a little longer, stay, 
Sweet Sceur Marie, till I've confessed 
To you alone; for all your care 
But seems as answer to a prayer, 
Forever thought, but ne'er expressed. 

I knew a lady, years ago, 
When, fair and cold, she passed me by, 
A nameless soldier in the crowd, 
Who looked upon that lady proud 
As on a star in yonder sky. 

I heard the praise that others gave ; 

But some admirers said that she 

But lacked a heart ; that none could move 
That stately dame to warmth and love, 

All faultless in her courtesy. 

Then I would think of what I saw 
One day, while passing her demense; 
And treasured in my foolish heart 
The secret which she did impart, 
Unknowing, unto me, unseen. 

I saw her raise a little child, 
Who fell while running from the place; 
And calm its sobs, allay its fears 
With loving words, and dry its tears 
Beneath the sunshine of her face. 

The child was poor, and plain, and wan, 
But could the worth of kindness feel; 
And sure, some grace of holy rood 
It had, or else the lady's mood 
Had ne'er escaped its gates of steel. 


And I, plcbian soldier, dared 

To love that lady from afar ; 

To strive that I might bravely "win 
Some rank which might guide me within 

The inner glory of my star. 

If she were there, where now you sit, 
Her pardon I would humbly crave 
For daring thus with rash desire 
To such position to aspire 
This side our common lot — the grave ; 

Confess that with presumptuous hope 
I thought to win her love with fame ; 
When, after years of arduous toil, 
Through danger and the camp's turmoil, 
The nameless soldier found his name. 

Then Fortune left him ; from the field 

His comrades bore him, wounded sore, 
And long in hospital he stayed, 
Until his restless soul essayed 

To reach the town beloved of yore. 

He gained his wish, but sickness came 

Again and laid the soldier low; 
And in this hospital he waits, 
Till Death, most certain of the Fates, 

Shall come to strike the final blow. 

In fevered dreams he seems to hear 
A sweet, low voice, and feels a baud, 

That brings to mind those former days, 
When, on the wings of courtly praise, 
His lady's fame flew through the land. 

Twas only you, my nurse, a saint 
Whose blessed life has thus been given 
In Christ-like deeds to all around, 
Whose brow shall be divinely crowned 
With glory in the court of Heaven. 

My lady proud is gone, and you 

Are reigning meekly in her stead, 

With face and form and voice like hers, 
But with a meekness that avers 

My lady proud is surely dead. 

I've lost my labor. I could gain 

«A queen in rank more easily 

Thau I could win this patient saint, 
Who, leaving wealth without complaint, 

Does the Lord's work so busily. 

For, in her sight what is my fame? 
The price of blood. 'Tis on my brow 


A crown of thorns. O saint divine, 
But give me lile as pure as thine, 
For all things else are worthless now. 

But I confess, I must confess 
That all the love for her I knew 

Has doubled, and has cast its all 

Before thy feet ; O heed its call, 
Forgive, though grace be not its due ! 

Ah, Soeur Marie, in truth, my heart 
Did prophesy that deep in thee 

Was hid the spring, all undenled, 

That gladdened once a fearful child ; 
Like whom, beloved, comfort me." 

The soldier paused, and silent sits 
His nurse, the gentle Soeur Marie, 

In wonder hears him. Dares she own 

That charity to love hath grown, 
And with his pleading joins its plea? 

Beneath the hood of saintly hue, 
Across the cheek so fair and white, 

The warm blood steals, a moment burns 

Within the gaze that on him turns, 
Then, veiled, it passes from his sight. 

" Do not," she said " your life condemn 
More harshly than you justly ought. 

Temptations are our common lot, 

And none have stood and fallen not, 
Save Him whose blood hath pardon brought ; 

And rank, and wealth, and beauty, all 
Have not the joy which He can give. 

In losing self in His employ 

I find the highest, purest joy ; 
O for His sake and service live. 

If you have loved me, cease to ask 
Forgiveness for your love> for I 

Am not the saint you seem to think ; 

Yet weak, I tremble on the brink 
Of sin's deep gulf, temptation nigh." 

" O Sceur Marie, too well I know 
That in your vow you gave the Lord 

The wealth and sweetness of your life; 

But in my heart is only strife 
Against it — speak some loving word, 

That bids me hope; oh, do not go 
Another way, and leave me here 

To grope in darkness and alone, 

To ask for bread and find a stone. 
Can nought to you my love endear?" 


He clasped her hand with sudden clasp 
And raised it to his trembling lips, 
Kissing it fervently — the gleam 
From fervent eyes dissolves her dream, 
And from his grasp the white hand slips. 

" No, no ! " she rose, " I must begone ; 

You beg of me too great a task. 
It cannot be ; yet ere I go, 
Your whole life's love shall truly know 

Why I refuse the boon you ask. 

My vow forbids that I should link 

My life unto another's ; yet 

My heart too much has long inclined 
Toward you, in you its joy to find; 

Its duty it must not forget. 

Farewell ! I must not come again." 
She turns — her passing step he hears. 

" If love be sin, oh, pardon me ! 

Too well, alas, have I loved thee! " 

She murmurs through her falling tears. 

* * * * ■* * * * 

The Soeur Marie of old Evreux 
Is seen no more within the town ; 

Nor in its streets by night or day 

The silent monk who went his way, 
Bearing the cross that she laid down. 



. The light of a bright October day is It is about two miles from the rock on 

fast dying out ; the gray summits of which we are now sitting, to the foot of 

"Washington*' and ' 'Lafayette" are re- the mountain, below, where years agone 

ceiving the last rays of the descending that old tree waved its green branches, 

sun before gloom and night settle over and the ancient oak, that steady record- 

the hills of '*Coos" and the valley of the er of the lapse of time, counted the win- 

*\Johns". ters' nights and the summer's suns. 

Pause with me and listen to the mcl- There is a rocky cliff with jagged per- 

ody of the winds and the waters. Cast pendicular front, where just now you see 

your eyes westward across the valley the shadows are deepest. It is a wild and 

toward the Dalton Hills and up above romantic spot, where the lover of forest 

the shadows where the sky and moun- sights and sounds most loves to wander 

tains meet, outlining their ragged edges — and thereabout hangs a legend whereof 

against the evening west. See that tall I must tell you, if you are in receptive 

hemlock resting its wicrd leafless form mood, 

against the blue? The cliff is known by the country folk 



hereabout, and among the villagers, as 
"The Jumping-off Place;" but by the 
Indians, those owners and natives of 
these mountains and valleys in the years 
long since forgotten and unregistered, 
save in the successive rings of the old 
oaks or the accumulated moss upon the 
ancient rocks it was called "Aowanega", 
meaning "The Lover's Leap." I renjem- 
ber once, when a boy, of climbing to the 
summit upon one glorious autumn day, 
just such a one as this has been, where 
the sky was deep blue, and the air was 
clear, and a dreamy softness hung over 
vale and hill ; the foliage, untouched by 
frost, was shedding over all it summer- 
garnered, sunshine glories ; I wondered 
then, if that "Upper Country" of which 
we know only in our dreams, could ex- 
ceed the delights of this. I was younger 
then by many years, and was in humor 
to be won by the lonely and lovely, by 
the beautiful and true. Time has sped 
along since those days, and I am now in 
and of the world;' havepassed well along 
in the journey of life, but it is pleasant 
to pause and look back from the hills of 
the present into the valleys of the past, 
for there are memories springing up from 
the experiences of those years that it 
gladdens our hearts to recall ; there are 
joys and loves intertwined with the sor- 
rows and youthful longings, that we 
would keep ever fresh and green. But I 
am forgetting my legend among these 

It wa3 in a year unrecorded, and yet it 
matters not that it should be nameless, 
since they reckoned not years, those men 
of the forest, as do we, and their traditions, 
and important historical events, were 
only preserved by being repeated around 
their council fires and in their wigwams; 
but it was in the long ago that a young 
chief from one of the tribes, whose home 
was on the banks of the Connecticut, and 
whose lands and hunting grounds ex- 
tended far toward the setting sun, wan- 
dering upon a far trail, came into the 
country of the Mohawks: he was of no 
common descent, for he boasted that in 
his veins ran thebloodof the "Narragan- 
setts" and of the great ""Wyaudancee" 
of the "Montauks" The stranger was 
warmly welcomed by the young men 

and the warriors of the tribe, and by the 
old chief, in whose lodge he ate dried 
vension and bear meat, brought by the 
hands of the chieftain's own daughter. 
With longing eyes he gazed upon the 
lithe form, the ruddy cheeks and the 
raven hair of the maiden, and ere the 
crescent moon had passed its full, he had 
won her love, and a promise to return 
with him to his home and his lodge, far 
away, a journey of many suns beyond 
the eastern mountains. 

But the old chief, her father, was not 
so easily won, and she was already prom- 
ised to a young warrior of a neighboring 
tribe, although she knew him not, or 
aught of the royal decree ; so the suit of 
the lover was scornfully denied and he 
was driven in wrath from the royal 
lodge. But the love of the Indian maid- 
en was strong and the heart of her lover 
was brave, and it was agreed that at the 
end of a day's journey on the banks of 
the "Hoosic," he should await her com- 
ing in her own canoe, paddled by her 
own hands. The promise was kept and 
ere many suns had come and gone, a 
great feast was prepared by the Mohe- 
gan braves, in honor of the successful 
hunt of their heroic chief. Young men 
and maidens danced their wild dances 
and sung the w r ar songs of their tribe, 
while the gray haired men and matrons 
old, told o'er the exploits in the chase 
and in the bloody fight, of their valliant 

Suddenly, signal fires flashed out from 
the distant hill tops, and rumors came re- 
porting the approach of two thousand 
Mohawks, painted and plumed for battle 
and led by a brother and the rejected 
lover of the maiden. Then followed one 
of those long and bloody fights in which 
the early inhabitants of our country so 
often engaged; not heralded by the 
booming of cannon or the rattling of 
musketry, or distinguished by the march- 
ing and countermarching of vast armies, 
as in modern times ; but the forest still- 
ness was broken by the wild war-whoop 
of contending savages, and the death 
yells of the vanquished, as here, a stout 
stout old man was sent to the happy 
hunting grounds, by the murderous war- 
club— there, a hatchet crushed the skull 



of a giant brave — here, a flinted arrow 
pierced the heart of some young warrior 
— there, in deadly embrace, two painted 
forms struggle for the mastery, until the 
sharp bone-like knife pierces the heart 
and a strong life goes out in a demonical 
yell. There were deeds of valor and acts 
of bravery among those forest shadows, 
that the sun only, or the stars looked 
down upon, worthy to be recorded with 
those of the bold knights of the Crusades 
around the walls of Jerusalem. But the 
end came and the invaders were victori- 
ous — from mountain to mountain, the 
signal fires flashed back the result, until 
the beacon flamed above and along the 
valley of the Mohawk. The fight was 
won, but not the maiden. True to her 
love, she shrank not from the strife of 
which herself was the cause ; whereso- 
ever the contest raged the fiercest, there 
fell the blows of the Mohegan brave, and 
where waved his eagle plume, by his 
side was the fearless girl; twice she 
warned him of pending danger and saved 
him; twice with her own hand, she 
warded off the murderous hatchet that 
would have sent him from her faraway ; at 
length the moment for flight came and 
she was by his side when the last swing 
of his giant arm crushed the skull of the 
foremost Mohawk warrior and she saw 
her brother sent to the blessed hunting 

The mournful death- songs had hardly 
ceased to echo through the forest arches, 
when along the shadows of the rivers 
bank glided six canoes impelled by strong 
arms against the stream. In vain, the 
conquerors sought the trail of their ene~ 
mies; in vain, hill and valley were 
searched day after day, for the daughter 
of their old chief and her captor; and 
when the spring sun grew warm and the 
forest shadows were full, and dark, the 
hunt was abandoned, and the Mohawks 
and their Pequot allies, returned to their 
own lands, beyond the western wa- 
ters, and the stars looked calmly down 
on the graves of the forgotten. 

Just across here, near the foot of the 
cliff yonder, in a grove of ancient oaks, 
was a band of warriors and a few female 
attendants, guarding with jealous care 
the chosen, weli-won bride of their be- 

loved chief. The royal lodge was hung 
thickly around with the skins of the wolf 
and the bear, and in a retired nook there- 
of was a couch, furnished by the otter 
andthebea\*er. Here, among these rug- 
ged fastnesses, they felt themselves safely 
concealed ; she from a hated Pequot lov- 
er and he from the wrath of the warlike 
Mohawks. One afternoon in the mid 
summer, the "Wild Fawn*' had been lis- 
tening long at the door of their lodge for 
the expected signal which should an- 
nounce the return of the absent loved 
one from a two days chase. He was be- 
yond the mountains toward the great 
river; a country abounding in game. 
Soon the expected whoop rang clearly 
out across the valley, returning in wild 
echoes from the opposite hills ; and with 
a bound like a frightened doe, she sprang 
away and up the mountain side to greet 
him upon the summit of the cliff, — a fa- 
vorite resort — and there they met; he 
clasping her in his brawny arms and their 
lips meeting in the impassioned kiss of 
love. The greeting over, they sat there 
in the gathering twilight, and he related 
the incidents of his long absence, and 
then they talked of the world, as they 
saw it ; the distant rocky heights now 
grand in the glories of the setting sun, 
where the Great Spirit talked to them in 
the tempest ; then of the nearer green 
hills that sent forth the sparkling waters, 
musically murmuring below — "Onawan- 
da" they called it, signifying "Water 
born among the hills." And then they 
conversed of other lands, and other 
times, ere they were wanderers from 
their tribes and their distant homes. 
Sitting there in a seat formed by the 
rocks and the mosses, they saw not a 
stealthy form, creeping, cat-like, from 
tree to bush, and from rock to shadow, 
with the demon eyes of a painted savage ; 
they heard no rustling among the leaves, 
or crackling of dry twigs upon the 
ground; naught but the sighing of the 
wind among the branches of the hemlock 
above them, the dash of the waters 
through the distant glen, and the beating 
of their own hearts. The twang of a 
bow-string startled them both to their 
feet and the next instant a fliuted arrow 
was quivering in the side of the Mohegan 



chief. As he sank back, wounded, against 
the rock, the giant form of a Pequot war- 
rior sprang from his hiding place, rush- 
ing with open arms extended, as though 
intent upon clasping within them the 
form of the terror-stricken maiden ; but 
ere he had readied his object, a hatchet, 
hurled with lightning speed, arrested his 
course, and in an instant, he was seized 
in the deathly grasp of the wounded 
chief. A wild yell as of a dying demon, 
rang out over the valley and through the 
forest, frightening the birds that were 
hatching their broods in the clefts of the 
rocks and startling the beaver from his 
work in the neighboring swamp. 

Who can divine the thoughts of the 
brave lover — there was a brief struggle — 
he cast one earnest, agonizing look 
toward his dark-eyed mate, and then up- 
ward, as if to say, "meet me inthelandof 
the brave dead up yonder ;" then with a 
desperate spring, he leapt from the rock 
and the rival Indian lovers were hurled to 
their "happy^hunting grounds." 

On that long, grave like mound, you 
see now dimly outlined in the gloom, a 
bow-shot from the foot of the cliff, they 
laid the murdered warrior, in a grove of 
beeches, and above him they planted a 
young sapling — for the Indians held a 
tradition, that so long as a tree planted 
above their young dead should remain 
green, and wave its branches, so long 
should the dear departed remain young 
and beautiful in "the land of the hereaf- 
ter." Thus and there they left him, and 
the twilight fell grayly on the rocky, 
moss-covered mound. To this day 3-ou 
may lie with your ear to the ground in 
the autumn evening twilight, near the 
place or under the high rock and you 
shall hear a mournful murmur, as of the 
chanting of wild death-songs above the 
brave dead; and I have heard in my 
young days around the foot of the moun- 
tain, man\- a wild-piercing shout, as you 
might imagine a ghostly shriek. Others 
say it is the echo from some distant hal- 
loo, or the wind among the rocks and old 
trues, but I know it is not. 

The eagles wheeled screaming for 
many days above the place where the 
bones of the dead Pequot lay bleaching 
in the sun,'_aud the winds howled among 
t'nll n'ci.'til */i ; nhjhfc-owl hooted 

from the limbs of a blasted pine, standing 
below the spot ; no fair women or dark- 
eyed maiden, sung over him the death- 
songs, lulling the brave dead to slumber. 

Long the dusky maiden pined for her 
absent lover; in vain they strove to 
cheer her heart with the gay dances and 
native songs of her tribe; in vain, they 
brought her medicines from the forest 
and the valley; draughts of holy water 
from the bubbling spring at the foot of 
the mountain, brought not back to her 
cheek the ruddy glow, or brightness to 
her fading eye ; her light, fairy foot-step 
sought less frequcnth' her favorite haunts 
among the hills and along the river side ; 
and her songs became hushed from the 
wild- wood. 

A night in early autumn came down as 
it comes down now, quietly, and as 
those same shadows deepened around the 
mountain's base, and the glories of the 
departing day faded from the East, they 
found her, lying across the mound where 
they had laid her beloved chief; her slen- 
der arms clasping the young sapling, 
green above his grave; mantled by the 
holy twilight, her brown cheek laid qui- 
etly upon the forest leaves that covered 
him she loved, she had sunk to rest be- 
neath the stars. And there they left her, 
only a little below the growing mosses 
and the rustling leaves, and the same 
evergreen branches overshadowed them 
both. I fancy a scene in the blessed 
hunting-grounds that day. 

In a romantic glen, upon the bank of a 
wild mountain stream, fitted and pre- 
pared with all the taste and skill of Indi- 
an perfection, a wigwam stood; within a 
lone warrior, expectantly waiting— soon 
the door-way is quietly thrust aside, a 
light form glides in, and the "Wild 
Fawn" of the Mohawks is again clasped 
in the arms of her 3Iohegan lover. 

True? yes; at least, I suppose it to be. 
We know that a tribe of Mohegans once 
hunted and fished among these moun- 
tains, and that they were driven this way 
by the Mohawks and their allies, and the 
rest I got from the lips of an old hunter 
when I was a boy, and he heard it from 
an aged squaw who once lived near here 
many, many years ago, when this river, 
the ••Onawanda" ran wild and free trom 
"Aidochook" to the "Connecticut." 





Few, if any, of our American churches 
have so remarkable a history as that at- 
tached to St Michaels (Episcopal) 
Church, Charleston, S. C. It was built 
in 1760, at a time when building materials 
were exceedingly low, bricks being pur- 
chased at three dollars per thousand, and 
lime at six cents per bushel. Conse- 
quently, the entire cost of that imposing 
and magnificent structure was only §32,- 
775. 87. The chime, consisting of eight 
bells, was the first ever heard in Amer- 
ica. They were imported together with 
the clock in 1764. The bells cost in Eng- 
gland £581 14s Id. The clock, which is 
still running and the time-piece of the 
city, cost £194. The organ, which is 
regarded as the finest-toned in the coun- 
try, was built by Sehnetzler, and greatly 
admired in London. It was imported in 
176S, at a cost of £528 sterling. At the 
commencement of the late war, it was 
taken down and saved. After the war, 
the vestry had it put in complete order, 
retaining, of course, all the old pipes. 
<fcc. In 17S2, when the British evacuated 
Charleston, Major Traille of the Royal 
Artillery took down the chime of bells, 
and carried them to England as a trophy 
of war. They were sold to a Mr. Ryhin- 
eau, a Christian gentleman, who at once 
sent them back to Charleston as a pres- 
ent to the Church — (they were absent 
about one year) — when they assumed 
their former position, and for more than 
three quarters of a century, they dis- 
coursed sweet music, and announced the 
the hour of worship to generations of 
church-goers. In 1SG1, the commence- 
ment of the late war, the Vestry, being 
fearful that the steeple would be de- 
stroyed and the bells lost or melted for 
cannon, had seven of them taken down 
(leaving the largest) and sent to Colum- 
bia for safe-keeping. They were stored 
at a building in the State-House yard. 
They would have been much safer in the 
steeple of the church, for God in his 

great mercy, protected the venerable 
structure, which passed through the fiery 
ordeal without a sear. Although Gen. 
Gilmore's compliments to the city were 
daily proclaimed by the mouth of the 
''Swamp Angel" near Morris Island, the 
venerabie church seemed to be under 
God's special care. The building in 
which the seven bells were stored in 
Columbia was destroyed with the burn- 
ing of that city, when Gen. Sherman 
made his famous "March to the Sea," 
and when our army evacuated that city, 
the bells were found by one of the Ves- 
try men, broken in pieces and worthless 
save for old metal. The pieces were gath- 
ered together and with the one remain- 
ing bell were shipped to Liverpool, Eng- 
land. A Mr. Priolean, who felt a deep in- 
terest, made diligent search and, strange 
to say, his efforts were crowned with 
wonderful success, for he found the very 
house that cast the bells in 1764, a hun- 
dred years previously. The same moulds 
were found in which they were originally 
cast — and the books contained a record 
of the metals used, also the quantity of 
each, so they were enabled to recast the 
bells, which was done, and the entire 
chime shipped the third time from Eng- 
land, each time to take its position in the 
steeple of St. Michael's Church.. Says 
one of the Vestry-men, "there can be de- 
tected not the slightest variation in tone 
or sound,'' and they discourse the same 
sweet music they did fifty years ago. 
The owners of the vessel in winch the 
bells were taken to Liverpool and 
returned, very generously refused to ac- 
cept pay, and made no charge whatever. 
Would that our government could have 
shared the same spirit, and allowed the 
chime to arrive duty free; but before 
possession was given, the Vestry was re- 
quired to pay a duty of twenty-two hun- 
dred dollars ($2200) to the government. 
The cost of recasting, together with the 
duty, was a heavy burden upon the 



Church, but some of the citizens came to 
its rescue, and the sum was raised with- 
out difficulty. The communion service 
of St. Michael was also sent to Columbia 
during the war for safety, and at the 
evacuation of that city try our army it 
could not be found. It had been stolen 
In consequence of its value, or taken as a 
trophy of war. The old tankard was 
found in a pawn-broker's shop in Xew 
York, and purchased and returned to the 
Church by a kind-hearted gentleman of 
that city. Another piece of the com- 

munion service was found in a shop in a 
town in Ohio. A kind Episcopalian seeing 
the inscription, bought it and returned it 
to the Church. The balance of the ser- 
vice has never been recovered. This ser- 
vice was highly prized, from the fact it 
was presented to the Church in 17G2 by 
Gov. Boone. A monogram was taken 
from the pulpit; a clergyman in Xew 
Jersey accidentally became informed of 
itsjwhereabouts and returned it to the 
Church. Altogether, this soems, indeed, 
to be a very remarkable Church history. 



The early history of Nashua (formerly 
Dunstable,) could only be narrated in 
full in a volume by itself. The town 
of Dunstable was chartered by the 
General Court of Massachusetts, Octo- 
ber 16th, 1673, O. S., corresponding to 
October 27th, X. S. The township took 
its name from Dunstable in England, in 
honor of Hon. Edward Tyng and his 
wife, Mary Tyng, who emigrated from 
that parish and settled in Boston, but 
died in Dunstable, where their children 
owned large estates. The name is gen- 
erally supposed to be derived from 
u Dun,'- or "punum," signifying a hilly 
place, and "Staple," a place of trade. 
Dunstable included within its bounda- 
ries, as originally chartered, the present 
town of Tyngsborough, the east part of 
Dunstable, the north part of repperell, 
and the northeast corner ot Towusend, 
all in Massachusetts. In the State of 
Xew Hampshire, it embraced the town 
of Litchfield, most of Hudson, the south 
west part of Londonderry, the west part 
of Pelham, two thirds of Brookiine and 
Milford, and all the towns of Amherst, 
Hollis, Merrimack and Xashua. This 
ancient township contained about two 
hundred square miles, or one hundred 
and twenty-eight thousand acros. 

In 1741, the long disputed boundary 
line between Massachusetts and Xew 

Hampshire was settled, and the settle- 
ment severed the ancient township of 
Dunstable, leaving in Massachusetts that 
part of it now in Tyngsborough and Dun- 
stable. From the territory left in Xew 
Hampshire, which retained the name of 
Dunstable, was successively erected the 
towns of Merrimack, Hollis, Monsou, 
Hudson, Litchfield, Amherst and Milford. 
That portion of the township now em- 
braced within the limits of Xashua con- 
tinued to bear the old name until 1S37, 
when it was changed to Xashua, the 
name of the beautiful river that divides 
the city from east to west, and which 
signifies in the Indian tongue the "beau- 
tiful river with the pebbly bottom." 

The city of Xashua has an area of 18,- 
898 acres, and presents a fine diversity in 
its topography. The north part of the 
city 3 where are many of the finest resi- 
dences and most attractive sites, rises 
gradually from the Merrimack on the 
east and from the Xashua on the south, 
and commands a prospect of the whole 
surrounding country. Few locations 
any where afford more beautiful and at- 
tractive building sites. From the south 
side of the Xashua and the west side of 
the Merrimack stretches a broad plain, 
upon which extend miles of broad and 
regular streets, lined on both sides with 
the best of sidewalks and the noblest of 



shade trees. The chief growth of the 
city is westward, where there are still 
many fine building lots. In the suburbs 
of the city are some excellent farms, easy 
of cultivation, and producing annually 
abundant crops. 

No city in New England is so magnifi- 
cently watered. On the east, flows the 
Merrimack, the peerless stream of song 
and industry. From the west comes the 
Nashua, furnishing the admirable water 
power which drives the cotton mills and 
receives into its waters the sewerage of 
the city. On the south, the beautiful 
Salmon brook joins the Merrimack, after 
supplying still another water power and 
a splendid sheet of water before it flows 
into the Merrimack. On the north, is 
Pennichuck Brook, a limpid stream, from 
which is derived the supply of the city- 
water works. All these streams of pure 
running water not only insure the clean- 
liness but the health of the city as well. 
In earlier days, the untutored sons of the 
forest made their headquarters here in 
great numbers, attracted by the natural 
beauty of the location and the finny 
treasures which were always to be found 
in the streams. The name of the city 
itself was borne by the "Nashaways," a 
tribe of Indians that formerly lived on 
its banks. Nature might have done 
more to provide a beautiful site for a 
city, but it may be doubted if she ever 

In 1S00, the population of Dunstable 
was 862. The village which is now a 
city, was then known as Indian Head, 
but in 1S03, it was called Nashua Village, 
and in that year, the pioneer canal boat 
was lauched with much ceremony on the 
4th of July. There were two other vil- 
lages in town, one at the Harbor, so 
called, and another, and the largest, half 
a mile farther south. Nashua Village 
had a one story dwelling house on the 
site of the Indian Head House, which 
was then used as a tavern, a store and 
two dwelling houses. The only high- 
ways were the Amherst and Concord 
roads, which united and formed one road. 
from Nashua River to the Harbor, and a 
road down the northern bank of the 
Nashua to the boating house and ferries. 
At the Harbor, the dwelling house of 

Geu. Noah Lovewell, lately occupied by 
Col. George Bowers, with two other 
small houses on the south side of Salmon 
Brook, were the only buildings. Haifa 
mile south, was the third and largest vil- 
lage, consisting of a tavern, store, shops, 
dwellings and meeting house. Between 
Salmon Brook and Nashua River there 
was a "broad, uufenced, desolate, white- 
pine forest, " unbroken by a single habi- 
tation. Such was Nashua at the begin- 
ning of the present century. 

A post office was established at the 
Harbor in 1S03, and Gen. Noah Lovewell 
was appointed postmaster. In 1S04, the 
Middlesex canal was opened and gave a 
decided impetus to the growth of Nashua 
Village, as it opened direct commueation 
with Boston. Hitherto, the principal 
markets of this region had been Haver- 
hill and Newburyport. A new meeting 
house was erected in 1812, and in 1817 a 
dam was constructed on the Nashua, a 
few rods above Main street. At one 
end, a grist mill was erected, and at the 
other end, a saw mill. A few years af- 
terwards, the present dam of the Jackson 
Company was constructed, and a new 
saw mill erected. Nashua Village had 
now about fifteen houses, and the whole 
town, a population of 1,142. Within the 
town, by the census of 1S20, there were 
nine school houses, one meeting house, 
six taverns, five stores, three grist mills, 
one clothing mill, one carding machine, 
five bark mills, and three tanneries. Be- 
tween 1820 and 1830, the establishment 
of cotton manufacturing by the Nashua 
and Jackson Companies gave a marked 
impulse to the growth of Nashua Village. 
In 1830, the village had a population of 
1,500, and the entire town 2,417. The 
growth in population was now very rapid. 
In 1S3G the population had increased to 
5.0G5, of which four thousand Mere in 
Nashua Village. "January 1st. 1837, " 
says Mr. Fox, in his excellent history 
from which many of the facts of the early 
history of Nashua are taken, "the town- 
ship laid aside its ancient name of Dun- 
stable, which it had worn from its infan- 
cy, through good and ill fortune a hun- 
dred and sixty years, under which it had 
witnessed two revolutions and formed a 
portion of a Colony, a Province and a 


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(EKECTED, 1870.) 

sovereign State— under which it had 
passed through many wars, and grown 
up from obscurity and poverty; and 
adopted, in order to distinguish it from 
Its neighbor 't'other Dunstable,' its pres- 
ent name, that of the river from which 
its prosperity is chiefly derived — Nashua." 
In 1S40 Nashua had attained a popula- 
tion of 5,000, and the valuation of the 
real and personal estate was $2,407,822. 
In 1842 it voted at the annual meeting to 
erect a town house. As usual at the in- 
ception of such an enterprise, there was 
no agreement on a site. The contest 
Waxed warm and even furious. Finally 
u led to a division, the people on the 
n °rtn side of the Nashua securing an act 
°f Incorporation from the Legislature in 

June following as the town of Nashville. 
This division lasted till 1853, when the 
two towns that should never have been 
divided were reunited and incorporated 
as the city of Nashua. 

The city now had a population of 8942, 
and a total valuation of $4,266,658.00. 
The city was divided into eight wards, 
and at the first election Hon. Joseph us 
Baldwin, one of the pioneer manufactur- 
ers of Nashua, was elected Mayor. In 
18G0 the population had increased to 10,- 
605, and the valuation to $4,577,878, In 
1870, the population was 11,000, with a 
valuation of $5,140,734. The present 
population is 12,000; (April, 1877) the 
valuation is $8,280,908, and the rate of 
taxation $1.50 on a hundred. 


It was a prediction of one of the early 
settlers of Dunstable that the valley of 
the Merrimack would be a great manu- 
facturing region. Then Lowell and 
Lawrence, Manchester and Nashua were 
not. The men who pioneered manufac- 
turing in this valley, first examined the 
water power on the Souhegan river at 
Merrimack, but it was not thought ade- 
quate to their purpose. On their return 
they passed the Nashua, but were entire- 
ly unaware of the power which has since 
been so extensively improved. While 
they were beginning operations at Low- 
ell, by means of the Pawtucket canal, 
several citizens of Nashua village had 
awakened to the capacity of Mine Falls, 
on the Nashua, three miles from the 
Merrimack, for manufacturing purposes. 
A saw mill had been erected at Mine Falls 
as early as 1700, and it was proposed at first 
to erect mills there. The fall is thirty-six 
feet, which is unsurpassed in New Eng- 
land. LTpon further investigation and an 
actual survey, it was deemed practicable 
to erect the mills on the present site and 
bring the water from Mine Falls by 
means of a canal. An association was 
formed, and in June, 1S23, a charter was 
obtained for the Nashua Manufacturing 
Company, with a capital limited to 
81,000,000. The capital stock was at 
first fixed at $300,000, at S100 a share. 
Among the subscribers was Daniel Web- 
ster, who put his name down for sixty 
shares, but tradition says he never paid 
for them. The capital stock was finally 
paid in, however, mainly by Daniel Ab- 
bott, J. E. & A. Greeley, Augustus Pea- 
body, B.F. French, Foster &Kendrick and 
Moses Tyler, all Nashua men. This 
great enterprise was undertaken, it will 
thus be seen, at a time when cotton man- 
ufacturing in the United States was in its 
infancy. If not the originators they were 
certainly among the pioneeers of this in- 
dustry in the United States, and their en- 
terprise and forsight deserve the fullest 
recognition. In 1S24 the dam at Mine 
Falls was built, and the excavation of the 
canal begun and completed in the follow- 
ing year. The canal is about three miles 
in length, GO feet wide, and feet deep, 
and affords a head and fall of 33 feet. 

Mill No. 1 was erected and went into 

full operation iu 1S25. In 1827 mill No. 
2 was erected, in 1S36, mill No. 3. and in 
1844, mill No. 4. All these mills have 
been greatly improved and modernized 
and their capacity nearly doubled. Or- 
iginally they had 32,074 spindles, and 
manufactured 11.500,000 yards of cloth 
per annum. They now have a capacity 
of 76,000 spindles, and turn out 17,500.- 
000 yards of tine sheeting, shirting, print 
cloth and cotton flannels per annum. 
Capital, $1,000,000. Employ 1000 hands. 
E. A. Maxfield is agent and Jas. S. Amory 

In 1824, a canal, with the necessary 
dams and locks, was constructed to con- 
nect the Nashua and Merrimack rivers, 
and thereby open boat transportation to 
Nashua village. The entire cost of this 
undertaking was 830,000. 

The lower water privilege, now occu- 
.pied by the Jackson Company, was sold 
by the Nashua Company to Charles C. 
Haven and others, who were incorporated 
by the name of the "Indian Head Com- 
pany," for the purpose of erecting woolen 
factories. The necessary buildings were 
at once erected, and the mills went into 
operation in 1S26. The enterprise did 
not prove a success, the company be- 
came embarrassed, and the property was 
sold to a new company, which was in- 
corporated as the Jackson Company in 
1830. The old machinery was taken out, 
and machinery for the manufacture of 
cotton cloth put in. There are two mills, 
which had an original capacity of 11,588 
spindles, but which has since been in- 
creased to 22.000 spindles, equal to an 
annual production of 9,000,000 yards of 
sheeting and shirting per annum. Capi- 
tal $000,000. Employ 550 hands. Wil- 
liam D. Cadwell is agent and Frederick 
Amory treasurer. 

Salmon Brook, at the Harbor, was im- 
proved by the erection of a cotton mill 
in 1845. This was followed by the erec- 
tion of another mill, having altogether 
a capacity of 5.000 spindles, and turning 
out 900,000 yards per annum. These are 
now known as the Vale Mills, with a cap- 
ital of $500,000. Employ SO hands. 
Benj. Saunders is agent and treasurer. 

We have now glanced at the establish- 
ment and growth of the cotton interest 



cf Nashua. We come now to consider 
Ibe development of other industries hard- 
ly less extensive. 

The manufacture of shuttles and bob- 
bins was begun in 1845, by J. & E. Bald- 
win. At the present time the business 
is carried on by Eaton & Ayer, on Water 
Street, who employ 200 hands, and do an 
annual business of about $175,000. The 
nutufacture of Mortise Locks and Door 
Knobs was begun about this time by L. 
W. Xoyes and David Baldwin. Employ 
If*) hands. Sales amount, to $150,000 per 
Minum. C.B. Hill treasurer; Wm. H. 
Cook, superintendent. In the same year 
the iron foundry of S. & C. Williams was 
established, and also the machine shop 
of John H. Gage, now Warner & Whit- 
ney. The former employ 70 men; an- 
nual sales, 8100,000 ; Charles Williams, 
proprietor. The latter employ 60 men ; 
annual sales, $100,000. 

In 1847, the Nashua Iron Company was 
Incorporated, with a capital ef $30,000. 
It gave employment to 50 hands, and 
had a monthly pay roll of $2,000. The 
growth of these works has been rapid 
and remarkable. From three small ham- 
mers and one shop, the company now 
has ten hammers and seven large shops, 
and the capital has been increased to 
8500,000, with a monthly pay-roll for 300 
hands, when in full operation, of $15,- 
000. The works of the company, includ- 
ing the yards, cover about 12 acres. 

In 1S52 the Underbill Edge Tool Com- 
pany was established with a capital of 
fc 50,000. Employ 60 hands. The busi- 
ness reaches $100,000 annually. C. B. 
Hill is treasurer and agent. 

J. D. Otterson & Co., iron founders, 
kegan business in 1858. The business 
was established by Hon. J. D. Otterson, 
*>D Water street, in the shop formerly oc- 
cupied by the Lock Co. At that time he 
employed 14 hands and did a business of 
815,000 a year. He remained on Water 
street until July, 18G6, when he removed 
*° his new works, located on the Worces- 
! '-' r & Nashua Railroad, near Quincy 
«reet. j n January, 1871, Mr. J. P. S. 
Otterson, Mr. J. K. Hosford, and Mr. 
6*0. W. Otterson were admitted to the 
partnership under the firm name of J. D. 
Otterson & Co., They now employ 50 

hands, and do a business of $0,000 a year. 
The Frauccstown Soapstone Works 
were located here in 1S67, and are in suc- 
cessful operation. They make all pat- 
terns of Stoves, Table and Wash Bowl 
Tops, Register Frames, etc., all from the 
celebrated Francestown Soap Stone. Em- 
ploy 25 hands. Sales, $100,000 annually. 
Williams & Co., proprietors. 

In 1870 the brick factory of Gregg & 
Hoyt was erected for the manufacture of 
doors, sash and blinds. The manufac- 
ture of furniture by Fletcher, Webster & 
Co. has risen from a small beginning in 
1862, to its present extent, occupying 
three large buildings at the south end, 
employing SO hands, and doing a business 
of $100,000 annually. The Novelty 
Works, near by. Fletcher & Atwood, pro- 
prietors, manufacture fancy bird cages 
and toy furniture. This branch of indus- 
try was begun in Nashua four years ago. 
The large factory on Main street, at the 
south end, is occupied by Crain & Moody, 
manufacturers of shoes, who located here 
in 1874, coming ft om Manchester. 

The Nashua Card and Glazed Paper 
Company manufacture glazed, plated, 
enameled and embossed papers, and tick- 
et, Bristol and printing card board, and 
have extensive works on the Nashua, 
near Main street. This business was 
started in Nashua twenty-five years ago, 
by Messrs. Charles T. Gill, O. D. Mur- 
ray, Charles P. Gage and John H. Gage. 
In a year thereafter Virgil C. Gilman pur- 
chased the interest of John H. Gage. It 
grew into two concerns, which were con- 
solidated in 1869. It gives employment 
to 150 hands, with a paid up capital of 
$100,000. Orlando D. Murray is Presi- 
ent. and Horace W. Gilman is treasurer. 
George W. Davis & Co., J. J. Craw- 
ford, A. H. Saunders, and Flather Broth- 
ers are machinists, a branch of industry 
that has long been carried on in Nashua 
with success. There are many minor in- 
terests in the city, amoug which may be 
mentioned Rufus Fitzgerald, belt manu- 
facturer; S. S. Davis, paper box maker; 
A. II. Dunlap & Son, seedsmen; L. E. 
Burbank, suspender manufacturer ; Chas. 
Holman, wholesale confectioner and man- 
ufacturer; John Osborn, manufacturer 
and retail confectioner; American Sheep 





1 . 



(EKECTED, 1866.) 

Shearer Company, (Messrs. Earl, Blunt 
Priest and Smith, proprietors,) ; Nashua 
Bed and Batting Company, (Towne & 
Cross, proprietors.) ; Nashua Cement 
Drain Pipe Works, S. D. Chandler, agent. 
The schools and schoolhouses of Nash- 
ua are justly its honor and pride. The 
high school building is the finest edifice 
of the kind in the State. In it are located 
the high school, with a corps of four 
teachers, and one of the grammar schools, 
also with four teachers. This edifice was 
completed in 1874, and cost 8100.000. In 
the solidity of its construction, beauty of 
architecture and completeness of appoint- 
ments it is all that could be desired. 
There are three courses of instruction af- 
forded by the high school, namely : busi- 

ness, English and classical. The "Mount 
Pleasant*' grammar school is a noble 
building on the finest location in the city. 
It was erected in 1870, and cost $50,000. 
It has a fine hall in the third story ; gram- 
mar school in the second, and middle and 
primary schools in the first. The Main 
street school house is a substantial brick 
edifice, and in all respects one of the 
most valuable structures in the city. It 
is used for primary and middle grades. 
Altogether the city has 17 schoolhouses, 
47 teachers, and 1G00 pupils. These 
schools are graded, and furnish 39 weeks 
of schooling throughout the year. Vo- 
cal music and drawing are among the 
branches taught in all the schools. 

Nashua has one of the best public li- 



brarics In the State. It was established 
in 1868, and now embraces G,000 volumes. 
Ii Is located in the County Records build- 
big, and Miss Maria Laton is Librarian. 
The library is open to the free use of ev- 
ery cit'zen of the city. 

The supply of gas for the city is fur- 
nished by the Nashua Gas Light Compa- 
ny, which has a capital of 890,000. The 
works are located near the Concord sta- 
tion, and at the present time have four 
miles of main pipe laid in the city. The 
quality of gas is excellent and the rates 
low. The works were established in 1S53. 

The Pennichuck water works, by which 
the city is copiously supplied with soft 
pure water, were incorporated in 1S53, 
and have since been in successful opera- 
tion. The supply is derived from Penni- 
chuck Brook, two miles distant from the 
city, whence the water is forced up by 
pumps into a large reservoir on the hill 
in the north part of the city. The rates 
are moderate. The capital stock of the 
company is $135,000. 

The admirable railroad map, given else- 
where, shows at a glance that Nashua is 
the centre of an extensive system of 
railroads. In fact its railroad facilities 
are unsurpassed by . any inland city in 
New England. Six lines radiate from 
Nashua, and five of them are entitled to 
be called trunk lines. Their connections 
are direct with Worcester, New York and 
the West, on one side ; with Rochester, 
Portland, Bangor and the East, on the 
other side; with Manchester, Concord, 
the White Mountains, Vermont and Can- 
ada, on the North; with Lowell, Boston, 
and Providence, on the South. The res- 
pective lines are the Nashua, Lowell & 
Boston, 40 miles ; the Nashua, Wilton & 
Greenfield, 26 miles ; (to be extended to 
Keenc,; the Nashua and ^Y~orcestcr, 46 
miles : the Nashua & Rochester. 48 miles ; 
the Nashua & Concord, 36 miles; the 
Nashua, Acton & Boston, 41 miles. For- 
ty-eight passenger and freight trains en- 
ter and depart from Nashua daily. 

He always wins who sides with God, 

To him no chance is lost ; 
God's will is sweetest to him when 

It triumphs at his cost. 

Ill that He blesses is our good, 
And unblest good is ill, 
nd all is right that seem 
If it be His sweet will. 

Like as a plank of driftwood 
Tossed on the watery main, 

Another plank encounters, 
Meets, touches, parts again — 

So, tossed and drifting ever, 
On life's unresting sea, 

Men meet, and greet, and sever, 
Parting eternally. 




— The valuation of Dover for 1877 is 

— Manchester paid §3S,950 last year in 
salaries to teachers. 

—The Coos Mutual Fire lnsuraee Co. 
is about to wind up its affairs. 

— Mrs. M. S. Brown has been appointed 
postmistress at Canterbury. 

— A halibut weighing 223 lbs. was re- 
cently caught off Hampton Beach. 

— A new ten thousand dollar school- 
house is to be built at Ashland. 

— A new bank — the u Second National" 
— has been orgainized at Manchester. 

r— Judge Spofford, recently elected U. 
S. Senator from Louisiana, is a Gilinan- 
ton boy. 

— A portrait of Gov. Cheney has been 
added to the collection in the Council 
Chamber at Concord. 

— Rev. Robert Collyer of Chicago, 
preached in the Unitarian Church at 
Keene, Sunday, June 3. 

— Claremont boasts of an eight-year 
old boy, named Levi A Judkins, who is a 
proficient telegraph operator. 

— Mrs. Lois Fletcher of Newport, will 
be 9S years old in August. She retains 
her faculties in the fullest degree. • • 

— Prof. J. Warren Thyng, the well 
known artist of Salem, Mass., is erecting 
a summer residence at Plymouth. 

— Secretary Evarts was in Concord to 
attend the anniversary exercises at St. 
Paul's School, where he has a son. 

— The aggregate circulation of the 
weekly papers of this State is about 90,- 
000, or more than one to each voter. 

— C. Coffin Harris. Chief Justice of 
Hawaii, is a native of Portsmouth, and 
has recently been visiting in that city. 

— The history of Dartmouth College, 
an octavo volume of about 500 pages, by 
B. P. Smith, is nearly ready for publica- 

— Woodsville is a thriving village. A 
new brick block. 50x100 feet, is to be 
erected there this season, besides other 

— The graduating class at Dartmouth 
College this year, numbers fifty-four 


Their average aire is 2: 

— The 100th anniversary of the adop- 
tion of the Stars and Stripes as the na- 
tional ensign, is to be celebrated at Ports- 
mouth on the 14th inst. 

— Prof. Quimby of Dartmouth has 
been appointed one of the board of visi- 
tors to attend the annual examination at 
the Naval Academy. 

— The ladies of Claremont are engaged 
in raising money for the purchase of. 
headstones for the unmarked graves of 
soldiers in that town. 

— In an old building, recently taken 
down in Tam worth, which was built 70 ■ 
years ago, the first nails made in New , 
Hampshire were manufactured. 

— Woodbury Langdon of New York, 
a great grandson of Gov. Langdon. has 
bought the Burroughs estate in Ports- 
mouth, which he will fit up as a summer 

— Col. Nathan Huntoon of Unity is the 
oldest Free Mason in the country, having 
been a member of the Fraternity over 74 
years. He was 95 years of age last 
March and is now in good health. 

— Alvin H. Johnson, the Bristol wife 
murderer, is the fifth murderer of his 
class in the State within six years who 
has been let off with a State Prison sen- 
tence, instead of being hung in accord-^ 
ance with his deseits. 

— The Cocheco Mfg Co. at Dover recent- 
ly fitted up a reading-room for the use of 
their employees, and now the Great 
Falls Mfg Co. propose to ;, go them one 
better," and fit up two rooms, one for the 
males and the other for females. 

—It is expected that this session of the 
Legislature will witness a spirited con- 
test over the question of granting an 
amendment to the charter of the Port- 
land and Ogdensburgh Railroad, so as to 
allow connection with the Vermont Divi- 
sion at Dalton. 

— Amos S. Alexander. Esq., formerly 
a lawyer of Concord, who will be remem- 
bered as a vigorous political or ator in 
the campaign of 1S50. died in Chicago on 
the 9th of May. He was a member of 
the law firm of Merriam & Alexander, 
and had resided in Chicago for several 
years. Mr. Alexander was a native of 
the town of Bow, practiced law at Fish- 
erville and subsequently edited the Ports- 
mouth Gazette. 

1 S9^@ 


•;.~. . ... - 




fefc . . _ *..*._. 





VOL. I. JULY, 1877. 

NO. 3. 



The assembly known long ago as u The 
Great aud General Court,*' being in ses- 
sion when this article was commenced, 
the mind of the writer was naturally led 
to the above topic upon which to employ 
his pen; and as Concord and the Legis- 
lature have moved together in harmony 
nearly seventy years, something of their 
history may be acceptable. 


Prior to Concord becoming the perma- 
nent seat of government, sessions of the 
Legislature had been held in several of 
the chief towns. This historj' of the 
Legislature commences with 177G— that 
being the year of national independence 
— from which time until 1S0S, the Legis- 
lature was a migratory body. The ses- 
sions, however, from 1770 to 1782 were 
held either in Exeter or Portsmouth, and 
nearly all in the former town. In those 
s»wen years the Legislature was in ses- 
sion thirty times; in all seven hundred 
and seventy-seven days; or one hundred 
and eleven days each of those seven 
years. The five sessions of 1781 were in 

Exeter, and, from 1782 to 1787, there 
were twenty sessions, and the "places 
where the Legislature met were Exeter, 
Portsmouth and Concord. There were 
twenty-seven sessions between 1776 anil 
1782, six of which were in the yeuc 1777 ; 
the six occupying one hundred and twelve 
days. In 1780, the body now under consid- 
eration was in session during some por- 
tion of March, April, June, October and 
December. In 1781, one hundred and 
fifteen days were devoted to the service 
of the State, and in the following year 
sixty da}'s were thus spent. 

The first session held in Concord was 
in 1782. It began on the 13th of March 
and terminated on the 27th. A second, 
of sixteen days, was held here in June; 
another, of five days, in September; a 
fourth, of twelve days, in Exeter, and a 
fifth, often days, in Portsmouth. These 
five sessions occupied, however, only 
sixty days. The only other towns than 
Portsmouth, Exeter and Concord, in 
which the General Court has convened 
were as follows: Charlestown, one of 
the three sessions of 1787 ; Amherst, one 
of the three in 171)4; Hanover, sixteen 





1 : fi ^ J 

I !•" \ X i *V«j 











i?TT?fff ft : ' 


days, in 1795. and at Hopkinton in 1798, 
1801, 1806 and 1807. 


The Senate has always, from 1792. con- 
sisted of twelve, and the House, from 
early times, has been an assembly in 
which the people were fully represented. 
But it is not possible to determine, from 
the printed Journals of the early years 
in this century, of precisely how many 
the popular branch consisted, and utterly 
so to designate the towns members 
whose names appear in the yeas and 
nays represented, for the towns were not 
given, as is now the invariable practice. 
The Journal of the House for the June 
session of 1802 commences as follows: 

"Upwards of one hundred and fifty mem- 
bers met agTeeably to the Constitution," 
etc. In 1803, the yeas and nays on a 
certain question were declared to be 70 
to GS. In 1S08, 87 to 75. In another 
case, the same session, 95 to 64. The 
House Journal of 1809 contains the names 
of members and the towns they repre- 
sented, and the six counties into which 
the State was then divided were repre- 
sented as follows : Rockingham, 43 mem- 
bers ; Strafford, 29; Hillsborough. 37; 
Cheshire. 33; Grafton, 26, and Coos 4. 
In all, 172. 


In 1812, Portsmouth had three Repre- 
sentatives, and Dover, Gilmanton and 
Concord, two each; all other towns, one 


each, except in eases requiring the for- 
mation of classes, which were as follows : 
South Hampton and East Kingston; 
Hampton Falls and Seabrook ; Litchlicld 
and Londonderry ; Flawke and Sandown ; 
Allcnstown and Bow; Middlcton and 
Brook field; Ethnghamand OssipeeGore; 
Xew Hampton and Centre Harbor; An- 
trim and Windsor ; Greeuiieldand Society 
Land; Wendell and Goshen ; Xew Lon- 
don and Wilmot; Dorchester, Orange 
and Dame's Gore; Thornton, Peeling 
and Ellsworth; Xew flolderness and 
Campton; Hebron and Groton ; Alexan- 
dria and Danbury; Lincoln and Franco- 
nia; Lancaster, Jefferson and Breton 
Woods, [now Carroll] ; Adams, Bartlett 
and Chatham; Cockburne. [now Colum- 
bia], Colebrook, Sheiburne, Stewarts- 
town aDd Errol; Northumberland. Strat- 
ford and Percy, [now Stark] ; Daltonand 


The writer cannot ascertain by legisla- 
lative journals that any discussion took 
place during the session of 1S07, regard- 
ing the selection of a permanent place of 
meeting. But in the House Journal, 
June 19, of that year, is the following 
record: "The vote of yesterday, that the 
next session of the General Court be 
holden at Hopfcinton came down from 
the Honorable Senate for the following 
amendment : 'that the icord Hopkinton be 
erased, and Concord inserted,'' which 
amendment was concurred in;" and, 
"Voted, That Messrs. Ham, Sweetser, 
Odell, Quarles. Fisk. Miller. Edgerton, 
Bulfum, Webster, and Bedell, with such 
as the Senate may join, be a committee 
to wait on His Excellency the Governor, 
and inform him that the business of the 
present session is finished, and that the 
Legislature are ready to be adjourned to 
the last Wednesday of May next, to meet in 

That the people of Concord, a long 
time before the above procedure, enter- 
tained the expectation that the Legisla- 
ture would, at some time, cease being a 
'nigratory body, is probable; for on the 
30th of August, 1700, they -• Voted, To 
raise one hundred pounds for building a 
house for the accommodation of the Gen- 

eral Court." In consequence of that 
vote, a building was constructed on 
ground now occupied by the City Mall, 
and used by the State and the town up 
to the year 1S19, when the Legislature 
commenced to o cupy the 'edifice in 
which its sessions have ever since been 


In 1S0S, the population of Concord was 
about two thousand, and nearly all those 
inhabitants who dwelt within a mile of 
the site upon which the State House was 
afterwards erected, lived upon xhe hiirh- 
way since known as Main Street. The 
occupation of at least half of them was 
tilling the soil; that of people in other 
sections of the town almost exclusively 
so. We were a rural population, just be- 
ginning to put on the appearance of a 
Xew England village. There was only 
one edifice in the town set apart for the 
public worship of God; the ""meeting- 
house" of the olden time, with a porch 
on two of its sides, aud a towering spire, 
surmounted by the effigy of that bird • 
whose crowing reminded Peter of his de- 
linquency in denying his Lord and Mas- 
ter. But, even then, the town contained 
a goodly number ol families of cultivated 
taste, who were well educated, accord- 
ing to the standard of that day, aud in 
easy pecuniary condition. There were 
then several taverns along Main Street. 
each, however, of limited capacity, and a 
member of the Legislature resorted for en- 
tertainment to private houses. "Taking 
Court boarders" was then the practice in 
a large number of families ; not so much, 
in some conspicuous instances, for pecu- 
niary gain, as to enjoy the society of dis- 
tinguished gentlemen in the Legislature. 
In these hospitable abodes was often 
found the best society of that day. Gov- 
ernor Langdon wa- a boarder in the fam- 
ily of Deacon John Kimball; Governors 
Gilman and Smith cade the mansion of 
Hon. William A.— the same where 
General Lafayette tarried, while here two 
days in 1S25— their home when in Con- 
cord; and these chief magistrates were 
associated in their boarding places with 
other gentlemen in high social and polit- 
ical position. Hon. John Bradley, him- 



self once a member of the Senate, and 
Hon. Thomas W, Thompson. Speaker of 
the House in the years 1S13 and 1S14, and 
Senator in Congress from 1S14 to 1817, 
entertained members of the "Great and 
General Court;*' and at a later period. 
Hon. Jsaac Hill, John George. William 
and Joseph Low, entertained Governors 
and prospective Congressmen. Jeremiah 
Mason, Daniel and Ezekiel Webster, and 
other lights of the early part of the 
present century, made domestic dwel- 
lings their abiding place when in Con- 
cord. Such was the custom of thetimes ; 
and there yet remain people amongst us 
who relate with much satisfaction the 
agreeable occurrences in their parent's 
houses, when politicians, wits, clergy- 
men, lawyers and others, of a now long 
gone period, were inmates of those habi- 
tations. The drift into the public houses 
of Concord is of comparatively modern 
date; utterly unknown during the pe- 
riod here under consideration. In early 
days, members of the Legislature came 
to town in their own vehicles or upon the 
* backs of their own horses; put those an- 
imals out to pasture, and the owners, in 
many instances, did not return to the 
towns they represented until the close of 
the session. 


From 1784 to 1831 — both years included 
— sessions of the Legislature were pre- 
ceded by public religious services in 
some meeting-house, where the session 
was held ; a*discourse being delivered by 
a clergyman appointed by the Governor. 
Those were occasions of the utmost 
1 'pomp and circumstance,'* and such of 
them as took place in Concord are in dis- 
tinct remembrance by people who still 
live. The Governor and Council, the 
Senate and House < f Representatives, 
many clergymen, wal ing by themselves, 
two and two, gentlemen in the various 
positions of life, pre eded by martial mu- 
sic and a military c>rps, all on foot, with 
a miscellaneous crowd on the sides of the 
street as spectators, proceeded to the 
ancient and then only meeting-house in 
Concord. The number of people in that 
ancient, spacious and well remembered 
house during those religious services was 

very great; and when all had become 

composed for the exercises of the day. 

the spectacle was of very impressive 



The following are the names of preach- 
ers of the ''Election Sermon:*' Rev. 
Messrs. McClintock of Greenland, (1784), 
Belknap of Dover, Haven of Portsmouth, 
Langdon of Portsmouth, Noble of New 
Castle, Ogden of Portsmouth, Evans of 
Concord, Morrison of Londonderry, 
Wood of Weare, Rowland of Exeter, 
Peabody of Atkinson. Gay of Dover, Pay- 
son of Rindge, Burnap of Merrrimack, 
Woodman of Sanbornton, Hall of Keene, 
Porter of Conway, Paige of Hancock. 
Miltimore of Stratham, Bradstreet of 
Chester, McFarland of Concord, Row- 
land of Exeter, Shurtleff of Hanover, 
Beede of Wilton, Bradford of Frances- 
town, Holt of Epping, Sutherland of 
Bath, Dickinson of Walpole, Merrill of 
Nottingham West, [now Hudson], Allen 
of Hanover, Howe of Claremont, Brad- 
ford of New Boston, French of North- 
Hampton, Tyler of Hanover, Cooke of 
Acworth, Ellis of Exeter, Williams of 
Concord, Bouton of Concord, Moore of 
Milford, Crosby of Charlestown, and 
Lord of Hanover, [1831.] 


In the House of Representatives, Jun^, 
1831, Benjamin M. Farley, Esq., of Hollis. 
moved that a committee be appointed on 
the part of the House to select some per- 
son to preach the Election Sermon. 
Charles F. Gove, Esq., of Gofi'stown, 
moved that the resolve of Mr. Farley, be 
indefinitely postponed; which motion 
prevailed, 107 to 81 ; and so the ancient 
custom was abolished, after its observ- 
ance for forty eight years. Thenceforth, 
the assembling of the Legislature has 
been of less remarkable character than 
under the old order of affairs. Only in 
exceptional cases has there been a mili- 
tary parade, and in some instances, Gov- 
ernors elect have passed, with no other 
escort than the committee of the two 
houses, from their boarding place to the 
Representatives' hall, and been quietly 



"The Speakership of the House of Rep- 
resentatives, under the State, as uuder 
the Federal Government, is a position of 
much responsibility, of delicate and ar- 
duous duties, and no inconsiderable pow- 
er and influence. Especially when we 
consider the fact that the Xew Hamp- 
shire House of Representatives is the 
largest legislative body in the country, 
and that it is made up, each year, of 
a large proportion of members entirely 
without experience in legislative busi- 
ness, yet fully conscious, and even jeal- 
ous of their rights as representatives of 
the sovereign people, it is apparent that 
in order to the satisfactory discharge of 
the duties of this office the Speaker must 
be a man of keen discernment and rare 
tact, as well as sound judgment and de- 
cision of character. Yet, of the numer- 
ous individuals who have occupied this 
position in the past. there have been few, 
if any, who have failed to give general 
satisfaction, both on the score of ability 
and in impartiality, (except, perhaps, in 
times of intense partisan excitement) 
while many have distinguished them- 
selves in a high degree for the able, ju- 
dicious and popular manner in which 
they have performed their duties. 

Since the adoption of the Constitution 
of 1792, forty-nine persons have held the 
office of Speaker of the House of Repre- 
sentatives in this State. These, with the 
years for which they served, are as fol- 
lows : 1703, Nathaniel Peabody ; 1794, 
John Prentice; 1795 and 179G, Russell 
Freeman; 1797, William Plummer; 179S 
to 1804, inclusive, John Prentice; 1805 
and 1S06, Samuel Bell; 1807 and 180S 
Charles Cutts; 1S09, George B. Upham; 
1810, Charles Cutts ; 1811 and 1812. Clem- 
ent Storer; 1813 and 1314, Thomas W. 
Thompson; 1815, George B. Upham ; 
1816, David L. Morrill: 1817, Henry B. 
Chase; 1818 to 1820, inclusive, Matthew 
Harvey; 1821, Ichabod Bartlett; 1822, 

Charles Woodman; 1S23, Andrew Pierce; 

1824. Andrew Pierce and Edmund Parker ; 

1825, Levi Woodbury, Heniy Hubbard ; 
1S2G and 1S27, Henry Hubbard ; 1828, 
James Wilson, Jr.; 1S29, James B. 
Thornton; 1830, Samuel C. Webster; 
1831 and 1S32. Franklin Pierce; 1S33 to 
to 1836, inclusive, Charles G. Atherton-; 
1837 and 1838. Ira A.Eastman; 1839 and 
1S40, Moses Xorris, Jr.; 1841, John S. 
Wells; 1S42 and 1S43, Samuel Swazey; 
1844 and 1S45. Harry Hibbard; 1846, 
John P. Hale; 1S47, Moses Xcrris, Jr.; 
1S4S and 1849, Samuel H. Aver: 1850 and 
1S51. Nathaniel B. Baker; 1852. George 
W. Kittredge; 1S53, J. Everett Sargent; 
1854, Francis R. Chase; 1855, John J. 
Prentiss: 1856 and 1S57, Edward H. Rol- 
lins; 1S5S and lS59.Xapoleon B. Bryant; 
1S60, Charles H. Bell; 1861 and 1862.Ed- 
ward A. Rollins; 1S63 and 1864. William 
E. Chandler; 1865 and 1S66, Austin F. 
Pike; 1SG7 and 1S68, Simon G. Griffin; 
1869 andlS70. Samuel M.Wheeler: 1871, 
William H. Gove; 1872, Asa Fowler; 
1S73, James W. Emery ; 1874, Albert R. 
Hatch; 1S75 and 1S76, Charles P. San- 
born; 1877, Augustus A. Woolson. 

Those at all familiau with the political 
history of the State and nation will rec- 
ognize in this, list of names , not a few 
that have become illustrious. It may. in 
fact, well be doubted if the roll of Speak- 
ers in any other State furnishes an equal 
number of names of distinguished repu- 
tation. Of the forty nine men enumer- 
ated, twenty two — nearly one half — oc- 
cupied seats in the Congress of the Uni- 
ted States thirteen having been members 
of the Senate. Seven were Governors of 
the State, eleven Presidents of the State 
Senate and five Justices of the Supreme 
Court. One was a member of the Cabi- 
net and a Judge of the Supreme Court 
of the United States, one a Minister to 
Spain, and one President of the United 
States. Many of them have occupied the 



highest rank in the legal profession in onr 
State, and several secured a national repu- 
tation as orators, jurists and statesmen. 
The names of Bartlett.Woodbury, Pierce, 
Hale and Atherton, indeed form a bril- 
liant consellaiiomwhile those of Plumer, 
Bell, Harvey, Hubbard, Norris, Wells 
and Hibbard. not to mention many 
scarcely less distinguished, will be re- 
membered and honored for generations 
to. come. 

Of all the men who have held the 
Speaker's office, but seventeen are now 
living. Ot these, the eldest, as well in 
years as in time of service, is Gen. James 
Wilson of Keene, who presided in the 
house forty nine years ago, being at that 
time thirty one years of age. Gen. Wil- 
son, although subsequently for a time a 
resident of Iowa and afterward of Cali- 
fornia, is now living at Keene, in the fall 
enjoyment of his mental powers and as 
high a degree of bodily vigor as is usual for 
men of fourscore. He has held a seat in 
the Legislature more years than any 
other man now living, sixteen in all, his 
first year being in 1S25 and his last 1S70. 
He was elected a member of the Thirti- 
eth Congress, succeeding Hon. Edmund 
Burke of Newport, and re-elected to the 
Thirty-First. from which he subsequently 
resigned to go to California. 

Second in order among the Speakers 
now living is the Hon. Ira A. Eastman, 
now resident in Manchester, formerly ot 
Gilmanton, who held the office forty 
years ago. being ttien about thirty years 
of age. He was chosen a member of 
Congress in 1839, serving four years in 
that body, and was subsequently for ten 
years, from 1849 to 1S59, an Associate 
Justice of the Supreme Court of the 
State. Judge Eastman is still in excel- 
lent health, active and vigorous as most 
men of fifty, and manifests a lively inter- 
est in public affairs. 

Dr. George W. Kittredge of Newmar- 
ket, the third in order of our living ex- 
Speakers, occupied the chair just twenty- 
five years ago this summer. He was 
then in middle life, but is now in feeble 
bodily health, though his mind is yet 
clear and active. Dr. Kittredge repre- 
sented the First District in the Thirty- 
Third Congress, being the last member 

of the medical profession to occupy a 
seat in the national legislature from this 
State, although many of our ablest rep- 
resentatives in former years, including 
Bartlett and Thornton of the Continental 
Congress, had been members of that pro- 

The immediate predecessor of Dr. Kit- 
tredge in the Speakership. Nathaniel B. 
Baker, who subsequently became Gover- 
nor, died last year in Iowa, where he had 
resided for about twenty years, and had 
been largely in public life, rendering im- 
portant services to the State as Adju- 
tant General during the war of the Re- 
bellion. His immediate successor, J. 
Everett Sargent, who was subsequently 
President of the Senate, an Associate 
and afterwards Chief Justice of the Su- 
preme Court, still remains upon the stage 
of active life, and is a prominent member 
of the present Legislature. Mr. Sar- 
gent's successor, Francis B. Chase, died 
last year. 

Of the fourteen incumbents of the 
Speakership since 1S5G all are living, 
with the single exception of Win. H. 
Gove, all in active life, and all still resi- 
dents of New Hampshire, except Napo- 
leon P. Bryant, who is now practicing 
his profession of the law in the city of 

Augustus A. Woolson, the present 
Speaker ot the House of Representatives, 
is a native of the town of Lisbon, which 
he now represents, born June 15, 1S35, 
being now, therefore, just forty-two years 
of age. The Woolsons are not a numer- 
ous family in this country. The name, 
in fact, is a very rare one, having, we be- 
lieve, but a single representative in the 
Boston Directory, James A. Woolson. au 
active partner in the well-known firm of 
William Clafiin & Co. All the Woolsons 
in America are the direct descendants of 
three brothers who came from Wales, 
and were among the early settlers of the 
town of Lunenburg, Mass., from whence 
their descendants have scattered over the 
country. Among the more prominent 
members of the family in New England 
are Aniasa Woolson, of the enterprising 
and wealthy firm of Parks & Woolson, 
of Springfield, Vt., manufacturers of 
woolen machinery, and Prof. Moses 






Woolson of Concord, a successful educa- 
tor of many years experience, and hus- 
band of the celebrated authoress and pub- 
lic lecturer, Mrs. Abby Goold Woolson. 

Elijah Woolson was among the early 
settlers of Lisbon. Ilis son Amos, father 
of the Speaker, has resided most of his 
life in that town, following the occupa- 
tion of a tailor. Another son, E. S. 
Woolson, engaged in the same business 
at Littleton, where he became a promi- 
nent citizen and died a few years since. 
Still another, Theron Woolson, went 
West aud settled at Mt. Pleasant, Iowa, 
where he became distinguished in public 
life, was Mayor of the city and a mem- 
ber of the State Senate. His son, John 
S. Woolson, who was engaged in the Xa- 
val service during the late war, and was 
upon the Housatonic when blown up in 
Charleston Harbor, is now a leading 
lawyer of Iowa, and has been offered, 
but declined, an election to Congress, 

Speaker Woolson's educational advan- 
tages were not extensive, his fathers 
circumstances not being sufficiently easy 
to admit of his bestowing a liberal educa- 
tion upon his children, a,nd even requir- 
ing their assistance in his work to some 
extent. He attended the district school 
until fourteen years of age, after which 
he worked in his father's shop for some 
time, but secured the advantage of a few 
terms' attendance at the Academies at 
Newbury, Vt., and at Meriden in this 
State. At the age of twenty-one he 
went to Minnesota, where he remained 
about two years, engaged in teachiug 
school, as clerk in a store, and such oth- 
er employment as he was able to secure. 
In two years, however, he had enough 
of Western life to satisfy him that the 
old Granite State was preferable as a resi- 
dence, and he returned to his native town, 
where he has ever since resided. 



Mr. Woolgon has been engaged for 
many years in a general office business 
at Lisbon, as a notary public, convey- 
ancer, pension and claim agent, etc.. act- 
ing generally a> a trial justice, when the 
services of such an officer are needed in 
town, and frequently as a referee under 
order of the Court. He was appointed 
an Assistant Assessor of Internal Reve- 
nue in 1S62. and held the position for 
eight years. He also acted as a Deputy 
U. S. Marshal in taking the census of 
1S70, his district comprising the towns 
of Lisbon, Littleton and Lyman. 

leader of his party in hi? town, he has 
naturally come to be active in conven- 
tions and general party management. 
He has served for some time as a member 
of the Republican State Committee, and 
was in the last campaign a member of 
the Executive Committee of that body, 
and Chairman of the Grafton County 
Committee. He was elected a member 
of the House in 1S75, and re-elected last 
year and again this year. He served as 
Chairman of the Committee on Claims in 
1875 and '76, and proved himself an effi- 
cient and industrious legislator. Several 
In 1872, he engaged in mercantile bus- times called to the Chair, he developed a 

iness as a member of the firm of Wells & 
TYoolson. general country traders, now 
commanding an extensive patronage. 
They are also proprietors of two starch 
mills, and do a large business in the man- 
ufacture of that article^during each sea- 

In town and general public affairs Mr. 
Woolson has always taken a lively inter- 
est. He was for some time town clerk, 
and has been moderator of the annual 
town meetings in Lisbon for eleven 
years. A decided and active Republican, 
earnest in his support of his party and 
prompt in the use of all legitimate means 
to insure its success, he has not. how- 
ever, engaged in the unscrupulous and 

tact and readiness as a presiding officer 
seldom shown, even by members of long 
experience, to which fact, in the main, 
he owes his election to the Speakership 
at the opening of the present session, in 
which office he has given the highest sat- 
isfaction for efficiency, courtesy and im- 

Mr. YVoolson is a bachelor. In relig- 
ious sentiment he belongs to the liberal 
school. In social, as in public life and 
business circles, he commands the friend- 
ly regard of all with whom he comes in 
contact. In the prime of early manhood, 
with an active temperament, clear per- 
ceptions, a good practical judgment, 
laudable ambition, and enviable distinc- 

dishonest measures which frequently dis- tion already attained, he may well look 
grace the politics of these latter days, forward to an honorable and successful 
For several years past, the recognized future. 


Society, like every organization. passes 
through various phases of development. 
In the first, or savage period, it is wedded 
to physical force. The man is right who 
has the strongest arm. Brawn and mus- 
cle are the only '"weight of evidence,*' 
the only judge or jury. Horatius proves 
himself superior in physical strength to 
the Alban champions and is esteemed a 
hero forever afcer. 

Thus it was in the beginning. The 
moral force had little or no recognition. 
Hence it came that woman in those 
ages was looked upon as an inferior or a 

slave. She was not created for the pur- 
pose of self-culture and self-development; 
she was made to serve man and to per- 
petuate the race; for this and this only. 
Such is the verdict of the barbarian. — a 
verdict which every stride of the moral 
force leaves farther behind. 

Those who fear that any innovation in 
woman's present position will destroy 
the peace of home, should have lived in 
those old days when there was the most 
I>erfect unity between the sexes. Then 
every man had this one theory of wom- 
an's sphere, and every woman accepted 



tlij? upbore -without question or demur- 
rer. But civilization lias passed that 
piatie where strength of limb is looked 
upon as the only mark of honor. The 
giant is a myth; the pugilist has fallen 
info contempt. The hero of the past be- 
headed the enemy, tortured the infidel, 
exterminated the weak. The hero of the 
present time does not oppress the lowly, 
hut uplifts him ; does not burn the here- 
tic but converts him: does not slay his 
adversary, but dies for him. 

The grand promise of the present age 
is its determination to recognize princi- 
ple. The rights of the individual are 
being every day more accurately defined, 
more extensively granted. 

Every soul shall be its own guardian; 
shall decide its own wants, relation and 
mission, with only such restrictions as 
shall insure no infringement on the rights 
of others. Such is unmistakably the ver- 
dict of our times. 

This, therefore, is the Golden Hour for 
woman. Man has spoken for her in the 
past; she may now be permitted to 
speak for herself. Man has spoken for 
her. What he said as a barbarian, we 
have seen. In the ages succeeding, one 
might expect to find grander words. 
Let us come up nearer the present, to 
Teutonic literature, which is recent, and 
what does he say here? Search the rec- 
ord and you will find him appealing to 
nothing higher than her love of his ap- 

I speak not in bitterness or anger. 
It were as wise to rail that the plant was 
once beneath the soil. Suulight has 
caused it to leave and flower, and simple 
growth likewise has carried the race 
through the unconsciousness of its em- 
bryonic state. Truly, no woman has 
reason to murmur that the savage and 
the half-civilized held her sex as of little 
worth. - * 

''Ah! but here is the humiliation," 
some one may argue, "that she has been 
dumb through all the ages. She has neither 
made history nor written it. She can 
boast of nothing but her obedience to 
man; she therefore has proved herself 
worthy of no better place than the one 
he has assigned her." 

I warn you not to impeach God's meth- 

ods. You remember that the organism 
destined for the highest uses is slowest 
in developing. Woman has remained 
longest in the obscurity of childhood. 
This promises well for her future. It 
surely is not to be regretted that as a child 
she held the state of tutelage to be nor- 
mal and proper. 

Let her therefore no longer bewail her 
infancy. It was a necessary phase in her 
development; an experience required to 
secure to her ultimately the greatest per- 
fection. But time has increased her 
stature. The days of her childhood have 
gone by. She is of age. She no long- 
er needs man's protection, only as he 
needs hers. The relation is mutual now. 
Equality, not subordination, is the word 
she delights to utter. But the influences 
of the past are around her. What has 
long been common usage cannot be put- 
away entirely and at once. Habit causes 
her to doubt her insight. Man, too, 
would bind her to old customs. But the 
die is cast; there is no turning back. 
Old dogmas are denied ; any theory of 
her status which may be presented is 
stormed with the batteries of criticism. 
The old is losing ground and passing 
away, while there is augury on every lip 
as to what will take its place. 

At the present time there are as many 
different theories as to woman's relations 
and needs as there are different heads. 
It is always thus when society is in a 
transition state. The unity characteriz- 
ing the old order of things is succeeded 
by that diversity which attends every re- 

The strife is actual and earnest. There 
is crimination and recrimination; there 
is charge and countercharge. The stag- 
nant conservatism of the past and the 
progressive aspiration of the present are 
fairly met. Let us count the chances. 
Let us consider on which side stand the 
probable victors. 

The conservative affirms that woman 
must keep silence in the church, but al- 
ready she is ordained of man to preach 
the gospel. He says she must not heal 
the sick, but in all our great cities we 
find her in successful medical practice. 
He thinks she would debase her woman- 
hood should she attempt to expound the 



law; but already she is admitted to the 
bar. He tells her that eloquence belongs 
only to his sex, but she has arrayed a 
multitude of facts against this assump- 
tion. He believes she can find proper 
occupation only in the kitchen and the 
nursery; but to-day we see her winning 
an honest competence in many of the 
arts and trades. He contends she must 
not hold office, but even now she is en- 
gaged in government service. He argues 
that suffrage would imsex her, but she 
has been known to cast a ballot without 
loss to her womanhood. He grants that 
she has a heart, but deplores her want of 
logic, while she interprets for him the 
Declaration of Independence, a docu- 
ment lately perplexing. 

He is of little faith. Though he sees 
he will not believe. He will say to you : 
"I know there are women outside the or- 
dinary sphere of their sex, but these are 
exceptional. The mission of the whole 
can in no particular be decided by these 
isolated cases. Every age has had its 
pre-eminent women, whom some great 
event or some unusual circumstance has 
called to act a part in the drama of pub- 
lic life. Their course, therefore, was le- 
gitimate and proper, though they can by 
no means be held up as the representative 
of their sex." 

Such are the words of our conservative 
friend, but the world moves on. The 
"exceptions" of which he speaks are fast 
becoming as numerous as the sands of 
the seashore. 

The times are full of hope. They 
prophecy grand things for the coming 
woman. Indeed, they prove she is al- 
ready among us and in the unmistakable 
language of action is affirming her sphere 
to be world-wide. She has opened the 
doors of culture. She has taken the 
keys of the workshops. She has donned 
the badges of labor. Within the memory 
of my readers what changes has she 
wrought for her sex. "Within the last 
decade even more women have sought 
occupation outside the kitchen and the 
nursery than within any preceding cen- 
tury. One hundred have already begun 
the study of the law; one hundred more 
are on the platform; ten times that 
number have learned to feel the pulse; 

some are in the pulpit ; some in the gov- 
ernment service ; while those in the 
trades and in other employment unusual 
to their sex, are too numerous to men- 
tion. A new census will be required to 
give their number. 

These may be "isolated cases,"' but 
assuredly there are enough of them to set 
all womanhood aflame with ambition ! 

Parents cannot give their daughters 
generous culture aud expect them to have 
no aspiration but to do housework and 
dream of a future husband. Husbands 
can no longer expect educated and tal- 
ented wives to sit down by the nursery 
fire with every purpose of their girlhood 
absorbed in bibs and shirt buttous. 
Women have done great things whether 
married or single. What has been can 
be again. 

"But the children will be neglected," 
cries the irrepressible fossil. Facts are 
against him. Approved usage contra- 
dicts his words. It will soon render 
them obsolete. A mother has been 
known to earn bread for the household 
aud thereby save the children from neg- 
lect. Xay, sometimes she has brought 
to her very hearthstone the work which 
our opponent has claimed should be done 
only by his sex, and with- the compensa- 
tion for this "unwomanly" employment 
secured to her family comfort and cul- 
ture. She has won laurels, too, and 
their shadow has been a benediction fall- 
ing on the baby's forehead. 

Indeed, it would seem that woman is 
in no danger of being unsexed so long as 
she is true to herself. When she acted 
the part of sea captain, she has not been 
held the less feminine ; wheu she has 
rescued men from the ocean, the world 
has applauded with eyes moist with 
sympathy. Whatever she has done in 
the spirit of self-trust, she has done well. 
Whenever she has acted from self impulse, 
shehas acted the genuine woman. Wheth- 
er this be a woman after the approved mas- 
culine pattern we cannot say, nor does 
it matter. 

She was made first for God; therefore 
should she obey Him as He speaks to 
her through her wants and her aspira- 





A little white cottage enclosed by a 
neat picket fence, and half concealed from 
view behind tall maples, the walk leading 
to it from the narrow gateway, bordered 
on either side with lovely flowers, and 
landing near the front-door, on the left 
as you approach the house, a large white 
rose bush now in full bloom, is the scene 
to which I wish to present you, kind 
reader. The door stands wide open to 
admit the cool, summer breeze, and near 
the door are seated two ladies, one appa- 
rently somewhere in the vicinity of forty 
years of age, the other not yet twenty. 

The elder lady is dressed in a suit of 
gray, made very plainly, with snow 
white linen collar, fastened with a small 
gold pin. The nut brown hair, with 
here and there a thread of silver, is 
combed smoothly back from the high 
forehead, and coiled at the back of the 
head. The blue eyes look mournfully 
away toward the distant hills, which 
arise on all sides as far as the eye can 

Those dear old Xew Hampshire hills ! 
There is nothing on earth so dear to my 
heart, as those same old hills, amid 
which I have watched the sun rise in the 
cast, and go out of sight behind lofty 
mountains in the west, so many, many 
times. The beautiful forest of maples 
interspersed with hemlock, spruce or 
poplar, or the tall, majestic pines, which 
send forth their melancholy, dirge-like 
music, are to be seen on either hand, 
White afar off in the distant pastures can 
he heard the occasional lowing of cattle 
°r bleating of lambs. 

Everything is very quiet just now— so 
<iuiet that the younger lady growing 
weary of the monotony, rests her golden 
head against the back of the arm chair 
l! » which she is seated, and closing her 
blue eyes, settles herself for a quiet nap. 

She is very lovely, perhaps not what 

one would style beautiful, but sweet and 
modest, reminding one of some wayside 

Her hair I have already said, was of 
the color of gold, and it was drawn back 
from the child-like face as plainly as pos- 
sible, which was not very plainly, it 
must be confessed, tor it would curl and 
wave about the forehead, in spite of 
comb or brush, and it was confined at 
the back of the head by a blue ribbon, 
where it fell, a golden shower of ring- 
lets, down over her shoulders. Her dress 
is of pure white, with a knot of blue here 
and there, and she looks very lovely as 
she sits there, all. unconscious of the 
pretty picture she is making. 

Alice Merton is the name of the little 
lady, and the sad-faced woman by her 
side is her aunt Lizzie Merton, a maiden 
lady and owner of the pretty cottage. 
Two years previous, Alice's mother had 
died and her father soon afterward took 
his only child, Alice, or as she was usu- 
ally called, Allie, to his sister Lizzie's 
snug little home, and leaving her, had 
set out on a journey to Europe where he 
still remained. 

Although Allie had always lived in a 
large city, she was very happy here, and 
had no desire to leave the. quiet country 
home where we now find her. 

Through the trees you can see the 
spires of two churches, and also the 
academy, which Allie had attended the 
greater portion of the time since her ar- 
rival in L . It is vacation now, and 

she is prepared to enjoy it in earnest, 
for the young people of the village have 
planned picnics, parties and rides innu- 

After a time, with a yawn, she rises 
from her seat, and says to her aunt : 

"Aunt Lizzie, what are you dreaming 
about? I believe I have been sound 
asleep for I don't know how long, and 



wake up to find you in the same position 
you have been in for the last hour, at 
least. Do please wake up and tell me a 

With a smile the lady turns to her 
niece and replies — 

"What shall it be, Alliel I don't 
think I know any stories." 

•'Let it be a story of your younger 
days, auntie. Ah, I have it, tell me why 
you never married." 

Into the blue eyes of the lady there came 
a sudden rush of tears; but Allie intent 
upon getting a hassock and placing it by 
her aunt's side, does not notice them un- 
til she has seated herself and rested her 
head on the lady's lap, when a single 
tear falling upon her face causes her to 
exclaim in astonishment — 

u Why, Aunt Lizzie, what is it? 1 did 
not mean to hurt your feelings. I am so 
sorry," she said, caressing the little 
hand which she held in her own. 

u Xay, Allie, you have not wounded 
my feelings, but I am ieeling sad to-day 
and your words only brought back to my 
mind more forcibly the cause of my sad- 
ness. I have been thinking for several 
weeks of telling you the little story of 
my life, for I fear you need a little lec- 
ture on llirtation, and the simple reason 
why I never married will answer for a 
lecture, I think." 

Allie's face flushed slightly as she re- 

"I don't see the harm in flirting just a 
little, auntie. I enjoy the company of 
the young men, and I do not mean any 
harm. Of course, I must go to walks or 
rides as the case may be, but I do not see 
any harm in that. If I were always to 
remain at home I should not enjoy life at 
all. I am not so very bad, am I auntie?" 

A loving smile chased away for a mo- 
ment, the shadows resting on the lady's 
face as she auswered fondly—" 

u Xo, Allie, dear, I do not think you 
mean any harm, but for all that much 
harm may be the result ; but listen to my 
story and then you can judge whether it 
be right for you to flirt at all. As you 
well know, Allie, my father died when I 
was quite young, leaving mother 
and Austin— your father — arid myself 
in comfortable circumstances The 

large farm was all paid for, and 
money in the bank beside, so al- 
although we missed him greatly and 
mourned for him sincerely, we were not 
wanting for any thing which money 
could purchase. Mother hired the work 
done, and we lived thus for several years, 
until my seventeenth year, when she sold 
the form and bought this cottage. 

I attended school and enjoyed life 
thoroughly, sometimes teaching in the 
summer season for the pleasure of it, for 
teaching seemed to be my particular 
forte, until my twenty-second year. 

Your father, I have neglected to say, 
left home soon after our removal to this 
place, and after two or three years, dur- 
ing which time he attended school, he 
entered the store in which he afterwards 
became partner, after a time married and 
settled nicely in life. 

I had always been called very good- 
looking, and received a great deal of at- 
tention, so much, in fact, that my silly 
head was completlely turned. I did not 
stop to think that my wealth had any 
thing to do with the homage I received, 
but supposed my good looks and agree- 
able manners, were the attractions. I 
was a decided flirt, Allie. I cared for 
none of the beaus that hovered around 
me, and I have since had cause to be very 
thankful that my wealth was the great 
attraction with most of them, for less 
harm was done than if it had been other- 
wise. At length. I reached my twenty- 
second year. The academy was built the 
following summer and made ready for 
the Fall term, which opened in Septem- 
ber. In July preceding, I received an 
invitation from your father to visit him, 
and in company with himself and your 
mother, take a journey to Saratoga, re- 
turning by the way of the White Moun- 
tains. I accepted the invitation with 
much pleasure, and after a few weeks 
of enjoyment, reached home again in fine 
health and spirits. What was my sur- 
prise to learn that mother had taken the 
principal of Maplewood academy to 

My uncle, Winslow Austin — mother's 
only brother— had been living with us a 
great portion of the time for three years, 
and it was principally on his account 



that mother had consented to receive the 
gentleman into the family. I was al- 
most vexed at first, but soon I grew to 
admire him more than anyone I had ever 
met. Somehow, I could not flirt with 
him. I had no desire to, in fact, and of- 
ten when in his company I would find 
myself complete^' at a loss for words in 
which to carry on a conversation. It 
was something very strange, for I had 
al ways before found myself equal to all 
emergencies. I will try and describe 
him to you, Allie. 

He was quite tall and rather slender, 
but not so much so as to mar the beauty 
of his form, which I then thought to be 
almost perfect. His eyes were black and 
his hair a very dark brown, and as curly 
as your own sunny locks, Allie. He was 
always rather sad and I often used to 
wonder if he had ever experienced any 
serious trouble. You ask me his name, 
Allie, but it has not passed my lips in 
many years. I will call him George 
Town, for that will answer as well as his 
true name, for you never saw him and 
probably never will. I will not dwell 
upon the many happy hours we passed 
together, when busy with my worsteds 
and he reading aloud from some favorite 
book of poems, I would lose my strange 
reticence and discuss with him the beau- 
ties of style and sentiment, until uncle 
Winslow or mother would enter the 
room and bring me back to the realities 
of life again. 

I had not even thought that school 
must soon close, until one morning at 
breakfast, George addressed mother say- 

'•Mrs. Merton, after this week I shall 
not be permitted to sit at your pleasant 
table, as my duties as teacher end in 
L- next Friday." 

I cannot describe to you my feelings, 
Allie. I paused in the act of raising a 
glass to my lips and turned my eyes to- 
ward his face, only to find him intently 
watching me. The knowledge that I 
loved him, suddenly burst upon me with 
an almost overwhelming force. I arose 
hum the table with the rest, and some- 
how managed to talk and laugh even 
more than usual, but the dread feeling 
was at my heart all the time, and the 

words, "he is going away," ever ringing 
in my ears. All through the clay I could 
hear them, and toward the close of the 
afternoon I threw a shawl over my 
shoulders and took a stroll off to the 
woods where we went the other day. 

The trees were all bare. and as I entered 
the wood, the leaves rustled beneath my 
feet and the November wind sighed 
through the leafless branches over my 
head so mournfully, that at last over- 
come by my trouble and the gloominess 
around, I sank down among the rustling 
leaves and wept bitterly. I felt so hu- 
miliated that I had given my love away 
— unasked and unsought — that, that in 
itself was enough to cause me bitter pain, 
while the thought "he is going away," 
would return ever and anon, causing me 
to weep faster than ever. 

At length I grew calm, and arising to 
my feet, I sought for and soon found a 
little rivulet, where I bathed my flushed 
face, and then walked slowly toward 
home. It was nearly dark when I ar- 
rived, and George himself met me at the 

"Lizzie, I was just going in search of 
you, for your mother was becoming 
alarmed at your absence," said he taking 
my hands in his, with a tenderness pe- 
culiar to himself. 

I laughed gaily, for he had never called 
me Lizzie before, and my spirits had re- 
vived wonderfully as I replied, that I 
had been bidding good bye to the grand 
old woods, had taken my last walk in 
them for that season, and was not aware 
it was so late until I had started for 
home, which was all true enough so far 
as it went. 

U I fear you have taken cold, Lizzie," 
said he, tenderly, as he opened the door 
for me, which led to the cosy dining 
room, where tea was awaiting me. 

Half an hour later, I entered the sitting 
room and seated myself on the sofa, lis- 
tening to George, who was playing on 
the piano. He was a fine musician and I 
never wearied listening to him. After 
awhile, he arose and approaching me, 
said — 

"Lizzie, will you allow me to sit be- 
side you and tell you a story?" 

Of course I assented, and drawing a 




chair near me— the very one you vacated 
a few moments ago, Allie — he sat down 
and told me the story I was so longing 
to hear. 

He had spoken to my mother, won her 
consent, and now awaited my own, 
which, of course, I did not withhold, and 
when at last I sought my room I was 
perfectly happy as his affianced. One 
thing had troubled me, at first, which 
was this — 

He had loved before, and the sweet, 
young girl had died on the day that was 
to have been her bridal. I say this had 
troubled me at first, but I was assured 
that George truly loved me, so I made 
up my mind never to think of that mat- 
ter again, but to be as happy as if it had 
never been. The week passed as all 
weeks will, and when he left us, he made 
me very happy with the knowledge that 
when spring came, he would return as 
principal for the Spring term at the 

I will not weary you with details, Allie. 
The spring came and passed, and when he 
left me it was decided that in the fall he 
would return and make me his wife and 
assistant teacher, and so it would have 
been, had I not ruthlessly thrown away 
my own happiness. 

In July. Dr. Hugh Ellis came to L 

and commenced practice. Mother, whose 
health had been failiug for some time, 
was taken suddenly ill one day, and I 
went hurriedly for our family physician, 
Dr. Lane, but to my sorrow, found him 
absent. I was returning sick at heart, 
when I met Dr. Ellis. I asked him to 
return ^ith me to see my mother. He 
did so, and although he soon relieved 
her, it w r as weeks ere she was able 
to be about the house again, and so every 
day the Doctor's horse and carriage 
could have been seen at the gate, and at 
length I discovered it was not altogether 
to see mother that he came, but it was 
rather on my own account. Then, all 
my old love for a flirtation came back to 
me, Allie — 

I should be married in the fall and this 
was my last opportunity, so why not im- 
prove it. I questioned. I supposed he 
knew of my engagement, however, so I 
let matters take th «r own course until I 

was awakened to my true position by a 
proposal from the young physician. 

I see you are astonished, Allie, and no 
wonder you are so. I had not intended 
matters to go so far as that, and I asked 
him if he did not know I was engaged. 
He knew nothing of it. and his anguish 
was terrible. I wept bitterly over my 
misdoings, but could do nothing to right 
the great wrong that had been wrought. 

Meanwhile, letters came to me every 
week from George, and 1 was beginning 
to count the weeks that must elapse ere 
I should see him, when I one day re- 
ceived a very heavy letter, which I has- 
tened to open, expecting a greater treat 
than usual, for his letters were always 
very interesting, not silly love letters, 
merely, but always full of good sound 
sense and manly sentiment. I can re- 
peat his letter, word for word, for it 
seemed scorched on my brain with th », 
first reading. It ran thus : — 

"Lizzie Mertox: 

When I asked you to be my wife, I 
thought I was asking a good, true wom- 
an. I find I was mistaken, and al- 
though finding you out has caused 
me bitter suffering, I rejoice that I have 
not been permitted to many a coquette. 
If you do not know to what particular 
flirtation I refer, the letter enclosed 
from my dearest friend, Hugh Ellis, who 
willexplain all to your satisfaction. 

Not even respectfully, yours, 

George Town. 

I read the long letter which Dr. Ellis 
had sent him, through, and with my 
heart all torn and bleeding as it was 
I could not help pitying him. He was 
not to blame, for he never knew George 
Town cared foi me, for, for some reason 
I never understood, George had never 
mentioned my name to him, although 
they corresponded regularly. I had no 
recollection of ever hearing George 
mention Dr. Ellis' name, but mother said 
she knew they were acquainted. 

A brain fever followed, and in my rav- 
ings, Dr. Ellis learned the truth. Dr. 
Lane called him in as counsel, and seeing 
his face must have brought back to mind 
the terrible anguish I endured ore I lost 
my reason, for mother said I had never 
referred toitbefore. However that may be 
he discerned all and like the true and no- 
ble young man he was, he tried to effect 



a reconciliation, but George was firm, and surely down the flower-bordered path to 

I have never seen or heard from him 
since. I cau not enquire for him, and al- 
though Dr. Ellis and I are very good 
friends and have been for years, his name 
is never mentioned between us. 

And now, Allie, do you think you ever 
wish to flirt with Dr. Ellis or any one 
else again? You have known him for 
years, for your father and he have long 
been warm friends, and as you know, he 

the gate. It had always been her wont 
to run lightly forth to meet him. for she 
had always regarded him as an eider 
brother, and had never thought of him in 
the light of a suitor. Now, her aunt's 
words came back to her and she raised 
her eyes to his face with an eager, ques- 
tioning gaze, as he came forward with 
outstretched hands to greet her. 
Certainly he did not look his age, for 

often visited at your old home. I have the shining jet-blaek hair was guiltless of 

seen the affection he felt for you as a 

child gradually assuming a different 

form. If you cau return his love, I shall 

be very glad, but I do not wish to urge 

you. Do you think you ever can, Allie ?" 

There was no response but a subdued 
sob, and looking down, Miss Meiton 
found Allie weeping bitterly. 

"Do not weep, Allie, but let me tell 
you this. Unless you care for Dr. Ellis 
do not encourage him. He is now nearly 
forty-five years of age and I hardly sup- 
pose you can care for a man so much old- 
er than yourself. It has been very hard 
for me to tell you this little story, but I 
was resolved to do it. Dr. Ellis cares 
for you more than you think for, so be 
very careful. 

Now go and bathe your face, and we 
will go to walk and try and throw off these 
gloomy thoughts my story has called 
up," continued the good lady as she 
raised the flushed face from its resting 

The days passed rapidly away. Pic- 
nics, parties, rides, etc., followed each 
other in rapid succession. Xearly every- 
day, if pleasant, was passed by the young Several times of late, when you look at 

a silver thread, and his long, wavy beard 
was as black as his hair, while he always 
wore a pleasant smile, and his brown 
ej-es •'"ever beamed kindly upon all. 

"Truly, he is a better-looking middle- 
aged gentleman than he was a young 
one'- said Lizzie Merton to herself as she 
glanced through the sitting room win- 
dow. U I wish Allie might care for him, 
for he would make her very happy," 
sighed the lady as her thoughts went 
back into the past which had been so 
full of sorrow for her. 

"I am going to ride with the Doctor, 
Auntie," said Allie, as she re-entered the 
sitting room. 

"Very well, my dear," was the reply 
and then Allie was gone again. A few 
moments later Miss Merton saw the 
Doctor assist her to a seat in his carriage, 
spring in beside her and drive rapidly 
away. Out through the village and 
away towards the south he drove. At 
length checking his horses and turning 
with a smile to his companion, he said : 

"Allie, I would like to know why you 
look so serious to-day, will you tell me? 

people in pursuit after pleasure. As has 
already been seeu. Dr. Ellis admired the 
pretty Allie, and his admiration was fast 
verging into love. 

It had been a long time since he had 
called at the cottage, although he had 
met Allie at the picnics, for no picnic or 
party was thought complete without 

At length, as Allie sat reading one af- 
ternoon, she heard a rumble of carriage 
wheels, and looking up from her book, 
she saw the doctor just driving up to the 
gate. A Hush dyed her face as she arose, 

me, I have noticed that you seem to be 
very busily engaged in thought. Do you 
see that I am growing old and feel sorry 
that I must soon become an old man, or 
what is it?" he asked, smiling down into 
the upturned face by his side. 

"You growing old, Dr. Ellis! I have 
never thought of such a thing. I don't 
know as I can tell you and it would not 
interest you if I could," she replied. 

He was silent for several moments and 
then he said softly — 

"Allie, if I were not so old, I should 
ask you a question to-day ; can you inl- 

and, passing out of the door, walked lei- agine what it would be?" 



The delicate face by his side turned 
pale for a moment, then flushed rosy red, 
but she made no reply. 

u Allie, I must tell you how dearly I 
love you," he continued, taking one of 
the slender hands in his own. 

"I never realized until to-day, how 
dear you are to me. Can you care for 
me just a little?'' he asked eagerly. 

To' his surprise, she burst into tears 
and wept as if her heart would break. 

"Ihave frightened you, and I am very 
sorry— please forget what I have said, 
my child," he said, tenderly. "I am too 
old to talk of love to you,"' he continued, 
after a pause. 

u Oh, Dr. Ellis, I like you, indeed I do, 
but I never thought you cared for me 
like this, until the other day. when 
Aunt Lizzie said I must uot flirt so much, 
and then she told me all about her own 
trouble and that is why I have looked 
and acted so differently, I suppose. And 
— and — she told me I must not encourage 
you, unless I cared for you, and I don't 
know whether I do or not, and that 
is the truth," said the frightened little 
creature, not daring to raise her eyes to 
her companion's face. 

"Thank you for being so frank with 
me, Allie, and thanks to your aunt for 
telling you to avoid the misery she 
caused herself," said he, gravely. ;, I 
want you to think of what I have said 
and weigh it well in your mind. You 
may have a month in which to make 
your decision and in the meantime, I 
want you to remember, that although I 
once loved your aunt, very dearly, 1 long 
since outgrew that love, and that I never 
cared for any one as I can care for you, 
if you will allow it," and he raised the 
hand he still held to his lips. 

"With all the innocence of a little child, 
Allie murmured softly, "I do like you 
very much indeed" whereupon the gen- 
tleman seemed to take courage, for the 
look of sadness vanished from his face, 
and a joyous smile took its place. 

He then changed the conversation to 
the objects of interest by the way. and 
after an hour's ride, turned his horses 
homeward. Just before they reached the 
cottage, Allie said slowly, as if half afraid 
to ask the question — 

11 Where is the gentleman, that aunt 
Lizzie was to have married? Is he liv- 

u Yes, Allie, aMd I expect he will visit 
me in a few weeks." he answered. 

•'Oh. do you? What is his true name? 
Aunt would not repeat it." 

"It is Walter Montague, and he has 
never married. but I believe he still loves 
your aunt. He has been in Europe for 
several years. A few months ago he met 
your father and learned, to his astonish- 
ment, that Lizzie had never married. 
When I wrote, asking him to forget the 
letter I had written, which had caused so 
much trouble, his answer was that I was 
never to mention his name again, and of 
course I never did. I hope that all will 
come out right in the end. Please do not 
mention this to your aunt. Your father 
and Walter will arrive at the same time." 

They had reached the gate and the 
Doctor sprang lightly from the carriage 
and assisted Allie to alight, murmuring 
as he did so, something that brought the 
color to her cheeks and an underinable 
look into her blue eyes, as she hastened 
up the path to the house. 

Aunt Lizzie met her at the door with 
a smile, and saw the flushed face and 
downcast eyes, but she apparently took 
no notice of it. for which favor Allie 
was very grateful. She hurried away to 
her room, for she desired to be alone, 
where she could think of all that had oc- 
curred and to ask herself if she really 
cared for the noble man, so much older 
than herself, who loved her so dearly. 

She was very quiet, and not at all like 
herself, when, in answer to the summons 
from Susy, the maid, she took her seat at 
the tea table, and after the meal was over, 
hesitatingly followed her aunt to the sit- 
ting room. Instead of taking her accus- 
tomed seat at the piano — for she usually 
passed an hour or so there after tea — she 
drew her favorite chair to the window 
and sat gazing out with the same ab- 
stracted look, while her aunt, who sat si- 
lently regarding her, thought within her- 
self that her sweet little Allie was no 
longer a child; that she had suddenly de- 
veloped into a woman. 

At length Allie arose and drawing a 
hassock to the feet of her aunt, seated 



herself and blushingly told her little 

The lady heard her through, aud then 
said, as she laid her hand caressingly on 
the golden head— 

'•A Hie, my child, do you think you 
t-are for him?'' 

v, Yes, auntie, I know I do, but he is so 
much older than I, aud he eared for 
you, so many years ago, that, oh auntie, 
1 wish I could have always staid a little 
girl, and he could be just the same kind 
friend he has always been to me and no 
more," she said sadly. 

Long and lovingly did her aunt talk to 
her, aud when at last she sought her 
couch, she sank to sleep to dream that 
Dr. Hugh had married her aunt Lizzie, 
and that she herself was a "little girl'' 
again at play with her dolls and kittens. 

The days passed on. Dr. Ellis called 
nearly every day, and Allie found herself 
very lonely if a day passed and he did 
not come, and when after a while a whole 
week passed without his calling, she 
owned to herself in the snug privacy of 
her own room that she was almost mis- 

However, when at length he made his 
appearace with a suitable apology, she 
grew very cheerful and went with him to 
the gate, and allowed him to kiss her 
hand and call her "dear Allie, ".when, af- 
ter an hour's stay, lie left her to call on 
his numerous patients. It was very sick- 
ly just then, and he cautioned her gently 
to keep away from the village, where the 
typhus fever was raging so fearfully 

She was making up her mind to say 
"yes," when he should come for his an- 
swer at the end of the month, and she 
was gradually becoming very happy in 
the knowledge that her old friend was to 
become her husband. 

One day, she accidentally learned that 
a poor family in the village were suffer- 
ing for want of nourishment to re- 
store them to health and strength again, 
and so she stole away, when her aunt 
Was busy in her own room, and with her 
basket laden with delicate food, suitable 
fur the sufferers, she hastened on her er- 
rand of mercy. 

It was true that they were all getting 
better, but somehow she caught the iu- 

fection, and wheu the day came that she 
was to have given her answer to the doc- 
tor, he was bending over her unconscious 
form, together with Lizzie and the dis- 
tracted father, who had arrived to find 
his daughter ill, "nigh unto death." 
The days passed slowly. At times it 
seemed to the anxious watchers that she 
had almost passed through the dark val- 
ley, but the best of care, and the. many 
fervent prayers that were oflered in her 
behalf, won her back to life once more, 
and on a lovely morning in October, we 
see her again resting in her favorite arm 
chair, in the cosy sitting room, looking 
like a ghost of her former sell, but watch- 
ing with a happy, contented face, the two 
gentlemen who are approaching the 
house with her father. Oae, the Doctor, 
the other, Walter Montague, who upon 
entering, came directly to her side and 
spoke so cheerfully and pleasantly to 
her, aud who turned so eagerly to Aunt 
Lizzie when she entered the room look- 
ing so young and happy, in spite ot the 
anxious, weary hours passed by the sick 
bed of her niece. 

Perfect happiness, reader. — if there 
really be such a thing this side of Heaven 
— will do much toward bringing back to 
us our lost youth, and certainly Lizzie 
Merton looks ten years younger than 
when we last saw her. She had at last 
met the reward her many years of pa- 
tient waiting had merited. 

I say patient waiting, for although she 
had never realized that she was watching 
and waiting for him, she did not seem at 
all surprised when Hugh Ellis had 
brought him to the house on the morning 
when they had become assured that Al- 
lie would live, and had taken her hand 
and placed it in Walter's, saying as he did 
so — 

"I parted you two, years ago, though 
not intentionally. Thank God, I have lived 
to see the day, Lizzie, when I can give you 
back your lost lover, who has always 
been true to you, as you have been iu 
your heart to him."' 

And now they were happy once more 
and were only awaiting the time when 
Alliens health would admit of the bustle 
nearly always attending weddings, to be 
made one for the remainder of their lives. 




After a few moments passed in general 
conversation, Hugh Ellis approached Al- 
lie and taking one of the slender, wasted 
hands in his own, he said tenderly — 

"Allie, are you going to make me as 
happy as your good aunt is making Mon- 

For answer, Allie raised her blue eyes 
swimming in tears to her lover's face and 
aswered softly — 

"Hugh, papa says you brought me 
back to life when all the rest thought me 
dead. I loved you very dearly before, 
and I am so glad to know that it is to 
you, under God, I owe my life, that I 

will give it into your keeping and try to 
make you happy, if I can." 

Reader, shall I say more? I might tell 
how Allie grew stronger each day, and 
how on New Year's morning, there was a 
double wedding at the cottage, but my sto- 
ry is altogether too long and I will close. 

There is a great deal of happiness in 
this world, after all, reader, and we 
should be very thankful that it is so, 
though, perchance, you and I do not 
find what seems to be our share, but let 
us hope that whether in this world or the 
world to come, we may find it "After 



[This article is given in place of the regular historical article by Prof. Sanborn, Which, on account 
of the pressure upon his time of duties in connection with Commencement exercises at Dartmouth, 
he was unable to prepare.] 

Scott, in Marmion, speaking of West- 
minster Abbey, says : 

'•Here, where the end of earthly things 
Lays heroes, patriots, bards and kings, 
TTnere, stitfthe hand and still the tongue 
Of those who fought and spoke and sung; 
Here, where the fretted aisles prolong 
The distant notes of holy song, 
As if some angel spake again, 
•All peace on earth good will to men.' " 

.England's "sea-girt isle" contains no 
monuments more precious than these. 
The Southern Transept is known as "Po- 
et's Corner," the most sacred and vene- 
rated spot in the whole abbey. Chaucer, 
the first great poet of England, died in 
1400 in London, where, in old age, he 
came to arrange his affairs and set his 
house in order for his approaching end. 
He is said to have uttered on his death- 
bed, in great anguish, the "good coun- 
sel," which closes in these words : 

"Here is no home— here la but wilderness. 
Forth, pilgrim ; forth, O beast, out of thy stall ! 
Look up on high and thank thy God of all. 
Control thy lust ; and let thy spirit thee lead ; 
And truth shall thee deliver ; 'Tis no dread." 

Irving, in the Sketch Book, says that 

"visitors remain longest about the simple 
memorials in Poet's Corner." The immor- 
tal bards there commemorated are the 
friends, teachers and companions of all cul- 
tured men of all ages and climes. Chaucer 
leads the sleeping host. His ashes have 
been once removed ; but have never been 
dishonored. He remained alone, in his 
glory, for more than a century and a half. 
Spenser was the next poet, buried near 
to Chaucer. He died in 1599. Beau- 
mont, Fletcher, Jonson and, probably, 
Shakespeare, were among his mourners in 
the funeral procession. Beaumont was 
next buried in the same place ; and it was 
intended to lay the remains of Shakes- 
peare near his friends; but the plan was 
frustrated, possibly, by the anathema 
contained in his epitaph, written by him- 
self, against any one who should "move 
his bones, or dig his dust." His dust re- 
mains in his original tomb in Stratford 
upon Avon. Ben Jonson objected to 
placing Shakespeare by the side of Chau- 
cer and others, saying : 


•Thon art a monument without a tomb 
And art alive still, while thy hook shall lire, 
And we have wits to read and praise to give." 

Drayton was next honored by a burial 
in Poet's Corner. He was renowned in his 
days for a poem called "Polyolbion," 
which was then regarded as a divine 
work. Not a century elapsed before he 
was forgotten. When Goldsmith read 
his name, he exclaimed: "Drayton! I 
never heard of him before." The lines 
on Ins monument, ascribed to both Jon- 
son and Quarles, show how his contem- 

poraries esteemed him : 

"Ruin shall disclaim 
To be the treasurer of thy fame, 
His name that can not fade, shall be 
An everlasting monument to thee." 

Ben Jonson soon followed the man he 
so generously eulogized. Before his 
death he asked King Charles I, for "eight- 
een inches of square ground in Westmin- 
ster Abbey.-' He is thought to have 
been buried in a standing posture, and 
this request is adduced to prove his pur- 
pose. The inscription — 
"O, rare Ben Jonson" 
is said to have been cut for eighteen 
pence, at the charge of a friend of the 
poet named Jack Young. As late as 
1849, when the grave of Sir Robert Wil- 
son was opened near the monument of 
Jonson, the superintendent of the work 
affirmed that the loose sand of Jonson's 
grave, rippled in like a quicksand ; and 
that the bones of the legs were standing 
upright and the head with some red hair 
upon it, fell down from above to the bot- 
tom of the new grave. 

Several other poets, some of them dis- 
tinguished in their day, others having no 
claim to the immortal honor conferred 
upon them by their tombs, followed 
Jonson and preceded Dryden. Sheffield, 
Duke of Buckingham, reared his monu- 
ment. Many inscriptions were prepared, 
but a very simple one was finally adopt- 
ed. Pope suggested this : 

''This Sheffield raised: the sacred dust below 
Was Dryden's once— the rest who does not 
know ?" 

John Phillips, an ordinary poet, was 
buried in Poet's Corner in 1708. He was 
an admirer of Milton, and the patron who 
composed his epitaph, pronounced him 
second only to Milton : 


"Uni Miltono secuudus, primoquepncne par." 

Bishop Sprat, then Dean of Westmin- 
ster, had the offensive allusion erased, be- 
cause he would not allow the name of the 
regicide Milton to be engraved on the 
walls of Westminster Abbey. Bishop 
Atterbury, his successor, though a Tory, 
four years later, restored the line. After 
the lapse of four more years, the criti- 
cisms of Addison, in the Spectator, made 
Milton so dear to the English people, that 
his bust was set up in the abbey. How 
fickle is public opinion. One day, hosan- 
nas rend the air, another, the cry of 
"Away with him." In the case of the 
blind old bard, the order was reversed 
and the insult came "first in time. Addi- 
son sleeps near his beloved Milton's bust. 
His monument was not erected till 1808. 
Pope choose to be interred in Twicken- 
ham. He resembled nobody else in 
body, mind or estate. He was always 
unique in all that he said or wrote or did. 
Of the proposal to lay his body in West- 
minster Abbey, he wrote: 

"Heroes and kings your distance keep, 
In peace, let one poor poet sleep, 
Who never nattered folks like you : 
Let Horace blush and Virgil too." 

He took more pleasure in this repulse 
of the proffered honor than others en- 
joyed in the anticipation of it. When old 
Sam Johnson, a few days before his de- 
cease, was asked where he would choose 
to be buried, he replied with conscious 
dignity : "Doubtless, in Westminster Ab- 

The three greatest geniuses of the gen- 
eration that preceded ours, Burns, Scott 
and Byron were buried in other places. 
The last named poet was excluded by 
the guardians of the abbey, and public 
opinion sustained their verdict. The 
same English people are now rearing a 
public monument to his memory. His ■ 
vices are already forgotten and his sur- 
passing genius alone remembered. Envy 
is sometimes extinguished by death and 
time. "Extiuctus amabitur." 

A long list of men of letters lengthens 
the catalogue of those buried in Poet's 
Corner. Macaulay, Thackeray and Dick- 
ens close the records of the men ennobled 
by genius. 




Alone, the last of all his crew, 
The captain stands upon the deck 
Of his staunch ship that hides, within 
Her hold, the treasure which has been 
The goal and prize he sought ; at last 
Through months of danger, toil, and care. 
Had reached and won. Yet well he knew 
How much 'twas still exposed to wreck, 
From ocean's hidden caverns, vast, 
From Death's foul minions, yet unpassecL, 
Around hhn in the poisonous air. 

A gleaming sunset throws its rays 
Aslant the ship, so'long becalmed; 
Unruffled, lies the treacherous sea, 
As if upon its breast, unharmed, 
The smallest boat might pass its days, 
Nor dream that storms might ever be. 
The heaven above is cloudless, bright 
"With splendor of a tropic sky, 
As to her palace in the West, 
Fair Vesper leads the day to rest, 
While from the East the shades of night 
Steal o'er the waters silently. 

Alone, with stern and haggard face. 

The captain stands, and ponders well 

His fate : if Death may yet be braved, 

If he may yet his story tell 

To those who wait him: and if, saved, 

His'treasure shall make glad their life. 

Or must he in the resting-place 

Where lies his crew, give up the strife? 

Or find that all the wealth he grasped, 

Was soon to be as worthless dust; 

And Hope, a phantom — sought, and clasped, 

And gone? Could such a doom be just? 

Oft', dreaming in his toil, he seemed 
Again within his far-off home, 
He felt the land-breeze on his cheek, 
He saw the ocean break in foam 
Upon the pleasant well-known beach, 
And held those dear ones in his arms, 
Who now were far beyond his reach. 
And who, perchance, in vain must seek 
For him who thus had toiled and dreamed. 


For here an evil, cruel fate 
Had taken from him wind and tide, 
Deprived him of his needful crew; 
Far better with them to have died, 
Thau live beneath this sky so blue, 
Despairing, helpless, desolate. 

List! what was that? Was it a breeze 
That rustled yonder drooping sail? 
Again! — and now with eager hands, 
The captain works, and Hope commands. 
All sails are spread, nor does he fail 
To place a sigual, mast-head high, 
For help, should others passing by, 
See him afloat upon the seas. 
From out the sepulchre of death — 
Which, greedy of the lives of men, 
Devoured with pestilential breath 
His comrades— slowly o'er the waves 
The good ship moves, and at the wheel 
The captain seems to see again, 
Kind Hope, to guide his vessel's keel, 
Where aid, both man and ship, shall save. 

But see ! the western sky reveals 
Swift clouds, which toward the zenith fly 
In masses, purple, black and gray, 
As if to shut the light of day 
Forevermore, from earth and sky. 
The breeze increases, and its might, 
The ship with dauntless vigor feels ; 
Faster she speeds upon her way, 
Behind, the storm; before, the night. 

A roar, a peal, and, from the clouds, 
The tempest pours its fury down ; 
The leaping waves the fierce winds lash, 
'Mid thunder-bolts which flash and crash, 
Then darkness, like Jove's wrathful frown, 
The fated, storm-tossed ship enshrouds. 
Her sails are scattered far and near, 
But on she leaps from wave to wave, 
While at the wheel, with desperate grasp, 
Stands one, unmoved by hope or fear, 
Who waits until an icy clasp 
Shall bear him to a sailor's grave. 

He looks straight onward ; on and on 
The ship is driving, and the surge 
Of mighty billows mocks the strength 
Put forth in vain, till Fate, at length, 
Decides the struggle and their doom. 
O'erwhelmed, engulphed, enwrapped in gloom, 
Down to the depths the ship has gone, 
The roar of winds and waves its dirge. 



In yonder harbor there is calm, 
A golden sunset o'er the hills 
Illumes the sky with changeful glow, 
Which shines on land and sea below, 
With wondrous beauty ; quiet fills 
The little sea-port, save the flow 
Of wavelets on the beach, and rills 
Whose murmurs are its evening psalm. 
And one looks out upon the sea, 
And wonders when a ship will come, — 
So long expected ; then with fright, 
Recalls the dream of yester-night ; 
The sinking ship, the haggard face, 
And ghostly eyes that haunt her still, 
And cries to Heaven, "Can it be true? 
Shall love and hope thus have their due?" 
But years must answer ; Heaven is dumb, 
And works its own almighty will, 
In ways that mortals cannot trace. 
Thus one is waiting by the sea, 
While fades the golden, sunset light, 
While from the East, the shades of night 
Steal o'er the waters silently. 



This Society was the out-growth of a 
previous organization, of a strictly pri- 
vate character, called The Philoma- 
thic Club, formed at Hopkinton, Nov. 
19, 1859, for social enjoyment and lite- 
rary improvement; and whose member- 
ship was limited to seven. In the lapse of 
years these members became dispersed 
into five different states. Once at least, each 
year a meeting was held, at which so 
many as could be were present. Nearly 
all were men of liberal education and of 
literary pursuits. Common proclivities 
of mind and taste induced them to col- 
lect whatever fell in their way that was 
unusual and carious. Without any de- 
sign, but by common consent, these arti- 
cles were brought to the meetings and 
deposited in the club-room at Hopkin- 
ton. This process went on for fourteen 
years. In 1872, the head-quarters of the 
Club were established at Contoocook. 
The collection of curiosities began to at- 
tract attention. Visitors to examine it 

were frequent. Most of these thought of 
something they could add to it, and thus 
it was constantly increased. Without at- 
tempting a speciality of any kind, gradu- 
ally Indian implements and remains, and 
the obsolete appliances of a historic past 
in New England life and industry, began 
to assume the more important place. 
Many samples of the clumsy tools and 
rude contrivances of our ancestors, the 
uses of which were known to the present 
generation only by history and tradition, 
began to appear in the collection. The 
donation also of some curious books and 
papers had formed the nucleus of a li- 

By the end of 1872, it became apparent 
that the Club must either cease this kind 
of work, or enlarge its membership, in 
order to meet the expense of accommo- 
dations for its growing collections. But 
these had already become of interest and 
of some value. Besides, "use doth breed a 
habit in us." With the prosecution of 


the work had grown the love of it. 
Moreover. the beginning made had tended 
to enlarged and confirmed ideas of what 
could be accomplished by diligence in 
this direction. It was seen that much 
might be done to preserve the knowledge 
of things long out of use, and of methods 
once prevalent and necessary, but now 
superseded and abandoned. The expe- 
riences and situation of this generation 
are peculiar. So rapid have been the 
changes "within the memory of men 
still living,*' that the "time can not be 
measured by the flight of years." We 
have lived in the transition period of 
American affairs. Probably in no other 
age of history will a single life connect 
periods that are so remote from each oth- 
er. Persons not very aged can remem- 
ber a condition of society, in which 
methods of industry and commerce, and 
domestic habits obtained, as foreign to 
our present almost, as those of Sweden 
and Russia. "Old things have passed 
away; behold, all things are become 
new." Reckoned according to the ave- 
rage of progression in former times, the 
aged men of to-day in Xew England, 
have lived five hundred years. 

It is certain that in dress, fashion re- 
peats itself, approximately. Garments 
out of style are liable to be in style 
again. But this can not be said of the 
implements of toil. They are never laid 
aside until supplanted by better. Once 
laid aside, they will never be taken up. 
Economy of time, material and muscle 
forbids it; and our avarice and our ease 
induce obedience. Out of use once, out 
of use always. Our farmers will never 
again break flax or swingle tow. Our 
girls will never turn the wheel or beat 
the loom. It will never pay, and so it 
will never be. Almost numberless 
things employed by our fathers in the 
shop, in the field and in the home, will 
be inatteis of curious interest to our 
children's children, and their fathers will 
with difficulty explain to them their use. 

And our American habits are peculiar- 
ly favorable to the rapid destruction of 
all useless things. Reverence for the 
past is not a conspicuous national virtue. 
1'he "associations which no gold can 
buy," must be a very unmerchantable 


commodity. Every farm is in the mar- 
ket. Every man" is ready to "move." 
Continuity and locality seem to be no 
part of the American idea of home. And 
every removal greatly reduces the num- 
ber of useless things. In the third gene- 
ration only a few samples remain of arti- 
cles found in every home in the first. 
Whoever then shall gather, classify, de- 
scribe and render accessible a collection 
of the domestic appliances and inventions 
of the early generations of a State, will 
not be thought at the end of a hundred 
years to have rendered a useless service 
to history. 

In our own State no other eftort had 
been made toward such an object. The 
field seemed large, fruitful, unoccupied 
and inviting. To cultivate it profitably, 
seemed to demand only diligence, perse- 
verance and discretion, with the funds 
requisite to carry on the work. Ac- 
cordingly, at the annual meeting of the 
Club, July 22, 1873, a committee was ap- 
pointed to consult with men of promi- 
nence and skill in similar pursuits ; and 
to frame a constitution suitable to the 
new form and position contemplated by 
the society. On the 19th of November 
following, this committee reported in fa- 
vor of the change ; presented a draught 
for a new constitution ; and thus, on the 
Fourteenth Anniversary of its formation, 
the Philomathic Club was dissolved "by 
unanimous consent,*' and the New Hamp- 
shire Antiquarian Society organized in 
its stead. The disadvantage of locating 
a State society in a village ten miles dis- 
tant from the carntalwas not overlooked. 
But its location is not fixed by law, and 
is subject to the will of the majority. On 
the 2d of July, 1875, the society was in- 
corporated by act of the Legislature. 

At the time it was dissolved, the Philo- 
mathic Club had on its catalogue 1200 
numbers. Besides these, which formed 
the basis of a museum, it had a few hun- 
dred volumes of books, about an equal 
number of pamphlets, about 3000 news- 
papers and several hundred engravings. 
The objects of the Society were cordially 
endorsed by gentlemen of culture and 
prominence in various parts of the State, 
and its endeavors have been seconded by 
all classes of citizens. Additions are 



made almost daily. Contributions are 
frequently received from remote parts of 
the State, and from New Hampshire men 

living in other States, of whose existence 
the managers were before unaware, and 
people often address the Society, de- 
scribing articles, curious and time-hon- 
ored, which they wish to have preserved 
by the Society. 

The Antiquarian department proper of 
the Society's collections embraces 
pieces of rare old furniture, table, culi- 
nary and kitchen implements, agricultur- 
al and mechanical tools and contrivances 
of ancient make, articles of costume and 
personal ornament of "ye olden tyme, v 
Indian relics and implements, the arms, 
accoutrements and uniforms used in the 
old wars, coins of every kind, and depre- 
ciated paper currency, and family heir- 
looms that have become venerable and 
precious by age. The Society does n<^t 
undervalue that peculiar interest wliich 
attaches to whatever has been owned or 
used by persons or families of historic re- 
nown. But its primary purpose and de- 
sign is to collect, arrange and exhibit 
whatever will best illustrate the methods, 
implements and products of the indus- 
trial life of our ancestors, without re- 
gard to the social standing of the origi- 
nal or subsequent owners. In other 
words, to group together in our collec- 
tion whatever seems likely to afford in- 
terest or assistance in the study of com- 
parative archaeology. To this was added 
a department of Natural History, includ- 
ing geology and mineralogy: and a His- 
torical department, embracing the collec- 
tion of books, pamphlets, newspapers 
and manuscripts. Of this latter division 
of the Society's work, and of the scope 
and method of its procedure in the pros- 
ecution of it. an account will be given in 
the next number of this magazine. 

Altogether, the success of the enter- 
prise has far exceeded the most sanguine 
expectations of its founders. Aid and 
contributions have come from most un- 
expected sources, and an interest mani- 
fested in its work, that demonstrates 
more clearly than any hypothesis, the ex- 
istence of that public want which the in- 
stitution was intended to meet. The 
number of visitors has been upwards of 


500 annually, since the collection was 
opened. The Society occupies four 
rooms, with a floor area of 91 5 square 
feet- and with S63 linear feet of shelf- 
room, and these are already so crowded 
as to demand an enlargement of accom- 
modations at once. The Society hopes 
to be able to secure or erect a building 
suited to its wants, at no very distant 
day. The necessity is clearly seen by 
the members, and its accomplishment 
will be undertaken as soon as a reason- 
able expectation of success will war- 
rant it. 

The past year has been one of unusual 
fruitfulness to the Society, particularly 
its library: owing to the receipt of books, 
pamphlets and manuscripts from the li- 
brary of the late Hon. Horace Chase, who 
was an honorary member, and took a 
deep interest in the Society's affairs : and 
from the estates of several other deceased 
friends of the Society. By a statement 
of the Treasurer. made on the 4th of July. 
1877, the additions made since the 16th 
of July. 1S76. were : Books 73S : Pam- 
phlets 303S : Manuscripts 306: Pictures 
SI : Newspapers in files or volumes 
3140; Maps 12: Autographs 82; Natural 
History 70: Geology 190; Antiquities 
154: Indian Implements 34: Coins and 
Currency 428; Military 11: Foreign 3$: 
Total S3 32. 

The whole number of articles in the 
Society's collections at the present time, 
(July 5, 1S77.) is as follows : Books 3195 ; 
Pamphlets 6700: Newspapers 10.087; 
Manuscripts 1932: Autographs 613; Pic- 
tures 5S8 ; Natural History 2199: Geol- 
ogy 1439: Antiquities and Eelics 7S2: 
Indian Implements 25S: Coins and Cur- 
rency 1413: Military 172; Foreign 395: 
Total 29.773. 

The regular meetings of the Society 
are on the third Tuesday each, in Janu- 
ary, April, July and October. The an- 
nual meeting has thus far been the regu- 
lar meeting in July, but will probably 
hereafter be in October. The Society is 
very democratic in its spirit, and invites and co-operation from 
persons interested, everywhere: and es- 
pecially from natives and residents of 
New Hampshire. 





" Please talk to me no more about it; 
I have thought of it, dreamed of it. cried 
and prayed over it, till I am nearly wild 
— and I have made up my mind that I 
cannot and will not be married/' 

They had left the dusty highway on 
their way home from church, that pleas- 
ant June morning, and were coming down 
the cool wood road, ornamented with 
three parallel strips of green carpet, 
over which the maple limbs interlaced. 
An occasional breeze shook off millions 
of water drops, left by the afternoon 
shower, and they fell, tinkling musically 
through the leaves, down into the masses 
of trailing wintergreen and soft moss. 
The moist Spring odor of ferns was 
heavy in the air, and here and there the 
white starry sprays of wild cherry blos- 
soms appeared through the green twi- 
light of the wood. 

The youthful figures, moving slowly, 
arm in arm, down the darkening vista, 
fitted harmoniously into the scene. They 
were a fine looking couple, though John 
Andrews, with his erect, sinewy frame, 
fresh, open countenance, and thick, curl- 
ing hair, was thought by most people at 
Andrews' Mills to be much the hand- 
somer of the two. But, though not 
beautiful, there was a fascination about 
the girl's thin, dark face. "With much of 
beauty about the broad, low brow, the 
delicate cheeks and slender round throat, 
it was the ever-changing expression in 
the large eyes and about the sensitive, 
mobile lips, that was so much more at- 
tractive than mere bright coloring or 
pretty features. She was excited now; 
her face bright and eager, and voice 
trembling, while her companion's usual- 
ly calm face looked pale and troubled. 

"Of course if you do not wish to be 
married, I shall not insist on it; you say 
you want to put it off; but, Louisa, I have 
a foreboding that if we postpone it now, 

we never shall be married," said the 
young man. 

* ; If you really cared about ever being 
married, you would do as I wish, John, 
and not settle down so contentedly here." 

"But, Louisa, I do not wish to go away. 
I like Andrews' Mills better than any oth- 
er place I have ever seen. I was all 
ready to commence building our house, 
and I thought we should soon be so 
happy in it. Louisa, why can't you be 
contented?" » 

"I'm sorry you care anything about 
me," the girl cried passionately. ;, I was 
happy thinking over our plans at first, 
but as the time draws near, I am miser- 
able ; I dread the ' thought of being 
bound, and worse than all of settling 
down here." They were leaving the wood 
now, and the young man stopped where 
the lane joined the white sandy road, and 
sitting down upon a flat, mossy stone, 
drew his companion to a place beside 

"Louisa, let us be fair and honest with 
each other ; you are as tired of me as you 
are of everything else at Andrews' Mills. 
If you go away for two or three years as 
you say you want to do, you will be less 
willing to live here then, than you are 
now. You say I ought to go away too ; 
but I do not wish to leave my home. I 
have done a good many foolish things for 
you, Louisa, but that would be the most 
foolish of all, and you would like me 
none the better for it. Tell the truth, 
dear, don't you want our marriage put 
off forever?" 

;, 0, forgive me, John, but it is so, I do ; 
I like you very much and respect you 
more than any one else in the world, for 
I know you are right not to be pulled 
about by me, but I don't want to marry 
you, and 1 want you to take back your 
ring aud all you have given me, but, 0, 
please do not hate me, nor think I have 



treated you shamefully;" she pleaded, 
half frightened at the words she was say- 
ing, 4i I have wanted to tell you how I 
felt for a long time, but it seemed so cruel 
I could not say it, aud I kept hoping the 
prospect would seem different to me, but 
now I know it never will.'' 

"I have seen how it would be for a 
long time," he said, a half sullen look 
overshadowing the genuine pain in his 
face." "I wish now that we had been 
married two years ago, before 3011 had 
ever been away from here." 

"Sometimes I wish so, too, for that 
would have ended all the doubt and un- 
certainty; but still how unhappy we 
should both have been if I had regretted 
it. No, it is better as it is, and by and 
by you will marry some good girl who 
will be happy living at the Mills, and 
who will be very fond of you, and that 
will be much pleasanter than trying to 
please such an uncomfortable, unstable 
being as I am," said Louisa, trying to 
speak lightly, though tears stood in her 
eyes and choked her voice. 

4 *You don't know how much you have 
been to me all these years, Louisa, else 
you could never speak like that. I have' 
nothing to live for now. and I don't care 
what becomes of me. I mean to lead a 
reckless life, gamble or do anything I 
please, and enjoy myselfthe best I can." 

Despite her sorrrow, Louisa could not 
resist a smile at the idea of phlegmatic 
John Andrews plunging into dissipation, 
but she only said gently, "O, no, you 
will make matters worse by doing any 
such foolish thing as that; but it is get- 
ting late, so I will say good bye. I did 
not tell you that I have answered an ad- 
vertisement for waiters at Golden Beach ; 
all the arrangements are made and I am 
going next week. Let us part friends; 
ydu are not angry with me?" 

"Xo," he said, slowly rising to his feet, 
and taking the slender brown hand she 
held out to him, "and until you marry 
Some one else I shall think you will 
some time many me. You wont take 
that hope away from me. There is no 
one else in my way, is there?" 

u Xo one, John." And then they said 
good by, with tears on both the young 
faces, and went their separate ways home. 

That night, and for many subsequent 
night?, Louisa's pillow was wet with 
tears. Since she was thirteen, it had 
been considered settled in the two fami- 
lies that she should marry John Andrews 
on her twentieth birthday. He was a 
great favorite with her parents, both on 
account, of his father's wealth and his 
steady, industrious habits. To them, it 
seemed a grand triumph that the only 
son of the richest man in the county, who 
might have his choice of a wife for miles 
around, should choose their daughter, 
who could bring him nothing but her own 
bright self. If they had known what 
Louisa was suffering and had suffered for 
months past, they would have considered 
her a fit inmate for an insane asylum. 
They could not understand the utter dis- 
similarity of temperament between the 
two; and she dreaded the upbraiding3 
that would be showered upon her w r hen 
they learned the course she had taken. 
But still harder to bear than that was the 
feeling of uncertainty as to the right of 
her conduct. Her mother had assured 
her that her doubts and fears were only 
natural and that once married, she would 
laugh at her foolish fancies. She had 
tried to believe this at first, but the feel- 
ing of repugnance at her marriage had 
grown stronger, till, in her passionate 
moods, death even would have seemed a 
relief. She pitied John, for she knew he 
loved her truly and well, but his threat 
of future wickedness did not trouble her. 
With keen perception of his character, 
she felt sure his grief would be of shorter 
duration than her own. She felt shame 
and mortification as she thought of the 
sneers and ill-natured remarks of which 
she would be the recipient, and clamor- 
ing conscience tormented her till she felt 
herself a very criminal. One drop of 
comfort she found, however. Her sister 
Elizabeth talked sensibly and encourag- 
ingly to her. t; Xot many girls would 
have had the courage to do as you have 
done. You know how people will talk, 
and father and mother will be furious. 
Of course, 1 should be glad to have you 
many such a good man as John is, but 
you could never be happy with him feel- 
ing as you do, and youjhave alone right to 
break it off." 



"It does rue good to bear you say that. 
You must break the news after I am 

"Well, I'll try, but keep up good cour- 
age, and remember that 'every back is fit- 
ted to its burden/ " 

"I wish the burdens could be fitted to 
the backs once in a while, I know I'd 
have mine lighter," and Louisa kissed her 
sister and went away, leaving a troubled 
reraemberanee of her sad face to haunt 
her for many a day. 

The novelty of her life at the "Beach 
House" roused her out of her gloomy re- 
flections. She worked hard, but was 
much interested in the glimpses of fash- 
ionable life she caught iu the dining 
room. She had read of such existence in 
books, had often dreamed of it when she 
was a child, but the reality fascinated 
her. The darkened dining hall was beau- 
tiful, she thought, with the long regular 
lines of snowy tables, glittering with 
glass and silver, blushing with ripe ber- 
ries, and cool with fresh, dewy lettuce, 
the slender goblets holding fancifully 
folded napkins that looked like calla lil- 
ies or white roses, or anything but com- 
mon place, badly hemmed, square pieces 
of linan. The silk dresses, the flashing 
jewels and subtle perfumes, the subdued 
hum of low, refined voices, floating 
among and above the jingling of the 
knives and forks and the splashing of ice 
water — the sounds that somebody has 
called "discordant dining-room accou- 
stics," — these things gave her a keen 
sense of delight. She found it hard to 
concentrate her attention upon details at 
first, but persistent observation taught 
her when leaning back signified a wish of 
the languid belle to have her dishes re- 
moved, and when she merely needed 
rest after the exhausting process of eat- 
ing, and by unyielding perseverance she 
succeeded in getting her gouty old gen- 
tleman's tea to a satisfactory degree of 
strength and weakness. 

One evening when she had been at the 
Beach House about three weeks, she saw 
the curled and scented head- waiter con- 
ducting a new group to her table. There 
Was a sweet-faced woman with abundant 
silver hair, a stately grave man of about 
thirty-five and a lovely little girl perhaps 

twelve years old. Louisa knew from the 
grand flourish with which her superior 
drew out the chairs and filled the goblets, 
and, indeed, from his condescension in 
performing these offices himself instead 
of entrusting them to her, that the party 
were "first class," and she overheard 
snatches of their conversation as she 
passed in or out. 

"I feel so sorry that Miss Hawkes had 
to leave us just now," the lady said. 
"Alice was getting interested in her les- 
sons, and I am afraid it will be a long 
time before we can find as good a teacher 
as she was." 

Louisa kept thinking of the remark all 
day and the thought that first occurred 
to her became a purpose. Why couldn't 
she teach the little girl? She knew she 
was a very good scholar, having supple- 
mented her three terms' instruction at 
Hilton Academy by hard study at home. 
That afternoon she learned their loca- 
tion, and having donned her best dress, a 
modest black alapaca, she tapped with a 
beating heart at the door of the "first 
corner room up one flight." They were 
all in, and Louisa, somewhat confused, 
stammered out that she had noticed their 
remarks at dinner and had come to apply 
for the situation "as governess to the lit- 
tle girl." 

The lady looked surprised, but the gen- 
tleman remarking that it would be a "reg- 
ular godsend if she could teach Alice," 
at once began questioning her. 

Louisa was delighted with herself for 
her readiness in answering, and mentally 
returned thanks for her excellent mem- 
ory that had proved a faithful servant 
this time. 

By and by the gentleman said, "I 
think you will do. I wish Alice to have a 
sure foundation of rudimentary knowledge 
before she tries her hand at accomplish- 
ments. She will not learn music for two 
years yet, and she knows French enough 
for the present." 

"But I thought you wished her to get 
an idea of German," his mother inter- 

"O, to be sure, do you understand 
German, Miss?" 

"Gibson," supplied Louisa. "I know 
something of it," she continued, her face 


flushing crimson, for bis tone implied, 
u of course you do not.'' "I studied it at 
Hilton Academy and a German neighbor 
helped me about the pronunciation." 

"Read something here,'* he said, hand- 
ing her Heine's "Bueh der Lieder." 

Louisa opened the book and read the 

little poem, — 

"Mein Herz, me-in Ilerz ist traurig, 
Doch lustig leucbtet der Mai;" — 

She appreciated the tender description 
and read with expression. but at the clos- 
ingline,**Ich wollt'.erschussemich todt," 
her voice trembled and her eyes rilled 
with tears, the words expressed so aptly 
her own hopelessness. 

Mrs. Endicott looked searchingly at 
her, and her son said, u you understand 
what you read, I can see that, but your 
accent might be improved. I suppose 
your neighbor spoke Piatt Deutsch?" 

"I think not, Mr. Bauer was from Ham- 
burg, I believe," she answered inno- 

1 'Probably, he was a Bauer by birth as 
well as in name," said Mr. Endicott sar- 
castically, "but you can teach Alice to 
read and correct your pronunciation in 
the Fatherland if you stay with us." 

He then told her that in a few weeks 
they were to sail for Europe to remain 
three years, and he offered her a liberal 
salary to go with them. Mrs. Endicott 
was not strong, and she would be ex- 
pected to take entire charge of Alice, 
teaching her the English branches, and 
superintending her education generall}-. 

Louisa's head was in a whirl. Go to 
Europe, see strange countries and beau- 
tiful sights, study French, German, Ital- 
ian perhaps, in the countries where they 
were spoken, maybe learn music from 
the great masters, it was a glimpse of ging him not to spend the time of her ab- 
Heaven! But she tried to conceal her sence at home. "Go to California and 
joy and excitement and told them she earn lots of money," she wrote, -some- 
would soon let them know her decision thing tells me we shall be happy together 
and then hurried off to shed happy, yet. Rouse up and make yourself wor- 
thankful tears and to say her prayers. thy of me," she concluded with superb 

"Well, what do you think of it, moth- egotism, and signed herself li Yours as 
er?" asked Mr. Endicott. ever." 

"I think you have been xery business- She received, as she expected, a favor- 
like," said his mother, with a quiet sar- able answer from home. Her father and 
cosm, "you did rind out her name." mother were apparently elated at her 

"Upon my word, I never thought of a promotion from waitress to governess. 
• ; charucter," but her face is enough. She "Emily Jones says you always looke 


looks as fresh and innocent as one of the 
daisies on her father's farm." 

"Yes, but I fancy from the way she 
read Heine, that she has known more of 
sorrow than her charming face implies." 

"I do hope she has some fun in her," 
said Alice. "Miss Hawkes always walked 
so stiff and talked so slow and solemn, 
that it made me feel lonesome just to 
look at her." 

Louisa had received a piteous appeal 
from her parents since she had been at 
the beach. They implored her to beg 
pardon of John for her fickleness, and 
not bring sorrow on them by throwing 
away the best chance she would ever 

This letter had driven her into a de- 
spairing mood for a time. It seemed 
they would force her into this wretched 
marriage in spite of all she could do, but 
now she was going far away, far from 
the temptation to yield for the sake of 
ending the struggle. It was like a bright, 
sweet day after a long, weary sleepless 

She wrote to her mother, telling her of 
the situation she could have, and dwell- 
ing with emphasis on the salary — "more 
than they pay the minister at Andrews' 
Mills," she reminded her. She knew the 
logic of this argument would be unan- 
swerable, and she asked their consent to 
her going. "The Endicotts are well 
known here, they live at a beautiful place 
on the Hudson River, and they are 
wealthy and respected. So you see I 
have been prudent in rinding out about 

Then Louisa did a strange thing. She 
wrote a long, friendly letter to John 
Andrews, telling him her plans and beg- 



higher than John Andrews or Andrews' 
Mills, but she says, 'sometimes folks lly 
high and light low.' 1 told her you would 
never light low. for you'd rather not 
light at all." her mother wrote. "Emily 
is dead set after John since you went 
:i\vay, but I don't believe he'll ever marry 
her in the world. He seems sort of down 
hearted all the time and I pity him 

Louisa travelled with the Endicotts, 
not three but four years. They visited 
the gray ruins and gay vine-clad hills of 
Italy; they passed leisurely through 
France, stopping nine months in bright, 
beautiful Paris ; they explored the cul- in her earnest eyes 
tured cities of the Fatherland, and gazed to ask more, 
with delight on the wild grandeur of 

to push the brimming cup of happiness 
from her lips, Louisa told the story of 
her early sorrow, told it in such a man- 
ner that her companion understood far 
more than the mere words implied. "I 
have always felt that I had no right to 
marry as long as he remains unmarried. 
I have outgrown many of my ambitious 
fancies, and I am still partly pledged to 
him," she said, feeling the sunset glory 
of the sky and sea grow pale as she 

"Louisa, tell me, if this had never hap- 
pened, would you say yes to me?" 

She turned her head and let him look 
There was no need 

Switzerland. England was left till the 
last, and Louisa liked it best of all, the 
home-like English landscape of rich 
woods and glowing pastures, and pictur- 
esque ancient villages, contrasting so 
pleasantly with the wildness she had just 
left and the rough aspect of her own 
country. ' 

Mrs. Endicott had been ill much of the 
time during their absence, and Louisa, 
by her kind care and bright companion- 
ship, had become very dear to the gentle 
woman who ardently approved of her 
son's choice, for one evening when the 
dear shores of home were dimly seen, 
Howard Endicott asked Louisa to be his 
wife. "I thought when Alice died that 
no one should ever take her place." he 
said, "but now I know that I should be 
very happy to have you always with me, 
Louisa, so what have you to say to me?" 

During all the years of her absence, 
there had been in Louisa's mind the 
thought of going back to Andrews* Mills 
and finding John Andrews grown into a 
realization of her wishes. As the con- 
verted heathen reverts to his abandoned 
idols, so amid her pleasant congenial sur- 
roundings, she had thought of the 
"Mills," and had almost grown to believe 
she could marry John and be happy 
there. The thought of atonement to him 
had had much to do with this, for she 
fancied his heart must still be aching as 
when they parted that night in the dark- 
ening, fern-scented wood. 

So now, feeling keenly how hard it was opinions years ago, but 

"And have you never heard from him 
all these years?" 

"Only through mother," she answered. 

"He did not go away as you wished?" 

"Xo, but he is a good, an honorable 
man, and mother thinks lie is unhappy 
all the time about me." 

Her companion smiled quietly. "We 
will talk no more of this now. You are 
going home when you leave us at Xew 
York, and perhaps by and by you will 
change your mind. When I come down 
to fish in June, I shall expect my final 

In a few days Louisa said good bye to 
her friends, Alice, now a tall, handsome- 
young lady, weeping profusely, and 
turned her feet towards home — a IIome, 
dearest and sweetest place in the world 
after all," she thought. 

Every thing seemed unchanged. Her 
parents, robust as ever, were overjoyed 
at her return, and very proud of the 
daughter. grown from an angular girl into 
a graceful and exceedingly beautiful 

"How is John Andrews?" she asked 
the first evening. 

"O, John is well, but somehow he 
isn't so smart as we all thought he'd be. 
Your father is dreadful disappointed in 
him; he goes looking kind of slack, and 
they say he's going to marry Emily 
Jones after all. I'm thankful you didn't 
have him." 

Poor Louisa; how glad she would 
have been if her mother had held similar 
now, her con- 



demnation roused Louisa's resentment. 
"I can not think John is slovenly," she 

"Weil, you can judge for yourself," re- 
turned her mother, indifferently, "I told 
him you were coming home, and of 
course, he'll call." 

But three weeks passed and he did not 
call. He had stayed away from church 
Sundays and from the weekly prayer 
meetings since her return. Could it be 
tliat he would not open his wounds afresh 
by the sight of his old love, or was he 
avoiding her because his heart had turned 
traitor to the old time? 

At last, she proposed to accompany her 
mother on her weekly trip to his store. 
There she would be sure to see him and 
she would learn the truth. As they 
drove through the familiar woods, Lou- 
isa was unusually silent, she was think- 
ing of her boy lover, and plainly there 
arose a sad, handsome face, with large 
honest eyes full of love for her. She 
should soon see him and her heart beat 
fast at the thought. 

He stood outside the door lifting a 
huge sack from the farm wagon that 
stood there. "A modern Samson," she 
thought sadly, noting his great strength. 

u John," she called softly. 

He stopped short, his face flushing 
scarlet at sight of her, and, looking more 
inclined to run, he came forward with a 
slow, heavy gait, holding out his hand. 

Poor Louisa ! The handsome, boyish 
face had grown stolid and fleshy, the 
good humored, happy look had subsided 
into an expression of contented dullness. 

There was no sentiment there, no linger- 
ing thought of the old time ; she knew 
that before one word had been spoken. 

They conversed on orthodox subjects 
a few moments, Louisa realizing all the 
time that the John of her memory and of 
her hopes was forever dead to her, and 
then with more alacrity than he had yet 
shown, he turned to help a new comer 
from her wagon. 

It was Emily Jones, who, casting a sus- 
picious look at Louisa, and determined to 
show her "'twas too late for her now," 
forthwith proceeded to whisper long and 
lovingly with John, according to local 
custom among young people who "were 
paying attention" to each other. 

Pitying his embarrassment, Louisa hur- 
ried her mother in her bargaining and 
''beating down," and they soon took 
their leave, to the evident relief of the tri- 
umphant Emily. 

"Now, don't he look slack?" her moth- 
er asked. "He always has that old Car- 
digan jacket on, and he never wears a 
collar from one year's^end to another." 

"I did not notice his clothes, but he 
has changed a great deal," was the sad 

When Howard Endicott visited her in 
June, she told him of the delusion she 
had been under. 

"1 knew it all the time," he said quiet- 
ly, "but I wished you to find it out for 

But Louisa wished she had said yes, to 
him at first, and lived under the delusion 
all her life, for if the dream was foolish, 
the awakening was cruel. 



The Rev. Elijah Fletcher. the second set- 
tled minister of the Orthodox Church in 
1748. He was a son of Timothy Fletcher, 
a descendant of William Fletcher, who 

settled in Chlemsford, Mass., in 1653, one 
of the first settlers of that town. The 
mother of the Rev. Elijah Fletcher was 
Bridget Richardson, who was born in 
Chlcmsford in 172G. Her father was Capt. 



Zachariah Richardson, who died in 
Chlemsford in 1776, aged SO years. 

Mr, Fletcher Mas a graduate of Har- 
vard College of the class of 1769. being 
twenty-one years of age at graduation, 
and was ordained as pastor of the church 
in Hopkinton, January 27, 1773. He was 
very popular with the people of his 
church, and exerted a great influence in 
the town, and was elected as a Represen- 
tative to attend the Provincial Congress, 
which met at Exeter, May 17, 1775. He 
was one of a committee of three to pre- 
pare a draft to send to the several towns 
in the State respecting disputes about 
tories. He was also appointed on a com- 
mittee with Col. Timothy Walker of Con- 
cord and Col. William Whipple of Ports- 
mouth, to see what sum of money would 
be sufficient to answer the demands of 
the Province. Col. Whipple was one of 
the signers of the Declaration of Inde- 
pendence. Mr. Fletcher took a great in- 
terest in the Revolutionary struggle, and 
had much to do in influencing the town 
to do its part in both men and money. 

In the days in which Mr. Fletcher 
lived, it was thought quite as necessary 
in order to keep life in the church to con- 
sult spiritual things here below, as well 
as above, and it was a common practice 
for Parson Fletcher, after a three hours' 
service in the morning, to step over to 
the inn across the street, with a few lay- 
men of the church, and take a glass of 
brandy or a mug of "flip." One of the 
leaves of the account book of Deacon 
Abel Kimball, who kept a store near Mr. 
Fletcher's house, has the account of Par- 
son Fletcher for groceries, &c. ; but if 
the pastors of the preseut day had similar 
accounts against them, it might lead to 
an investigation and perhaps a dismissal. 
This account runs from June 29, 17S2, to 
January 22, 1783. There are twenty-four 
charges for rum or toddy, by the glass 
or mug. varying from three to eight 
pence each ; and fifteen charges for rum 
and brandy by the pint or gallon, 
amounting in the aggregate to £1, 10s, 
6(1. The receipt of settlement was writ- 
ten at the bottom of the page in Mr. 
Fletcher's own hand, and reads as fol- 
lows : 

"Rec'd and Settled all accounts from the 
beginning of the world to this day, and 
nothing due on either side." 

Elijah Fletchek, 
Abel Kimball. 

Hopkinton, Jan'y, 22. 17S3." 

There is little doubt but the Parson and 
the Deacon took one glass of toddy be- 
fore that receipt was written. 

Mr. Fletcher, after a short illness, died 
April 8, 1786, in the 39th year of his age, 
having been a pastor of the church over 
thirteen years. He was a man of no or- 
dinary talent, and, if he had lived to ma- 
ture old age, would have left a bright 
and shining record in the ecclesiastical 
history of the State. As it was, he was 
considered a peer of his contemporaries, 
and greatly esteemed and beloved by the 
venerable Rev. Timothy Walker, first 
pastor of the church in Concord. 

An anecdote is related of Mr. Fletcher 
and his church, in connection with Mr. 
Walker. At one time in Mr. Fletcher's 
ministry in Hopkinton, (about 100 
years ago), he found that his parishion- 
ers were seriously afflicted with the 
delusions of witchcraft. He patiently lis- 
tened to all their complaints and charges 
against each other, and found, if all told 
the truth, he had but very few members 
in his church, but were either witches or 
wizards. He entreated and expostulated 
with them concerning this fallacious doc- 
trine of witchcraft, but to no effect. 
Many of his older members came from 
that section of Massachusetts where at 
one time witchcraft flourished, and they 
had not forgotten the fireside stories told 
by their grandmothers of the wonderful 
doings of witches who lived in those 
days, and were eventually hanged on 
trees or horizontal poles, like dogs. 

At length, Mr. Fletcher applied to Mr. 
Walker for assistance, and proposed to 
him to exchange and preach to his peo- 
ple in Hopkinton on this subject, telling 
Mr. Walker all the facts which caused 
the trouble. Mr. Walker prepared a ser- 
mon expressly for the occasion. He told 
his hearers, in substance, that the most 
they had to fear from witches, was front 
talking about them — that witches were 
very sensitive about that, and generally 
made their appearance to such persons 



in some form. The hearers took the hint, 
ceased their gossip about each other 
and the desired result was attained. The 
excitement about witches was never re- 
vived in Hopkinton after that day. 

Mr. Fletcher was greatly beloved and 
respected both by the members of his 
church and the people of the town. The 
town paid his funeral expenses, and pur- 
chased a set of stones to mark his grave, 
which still point out the spot where his 
ashes are mingled with the mother dust. 

His children, as far we know, were 
Bridget, born about 177-1; Timothy, 
1775; Rebecca, 177G, and Gratia. 1781. 
Rebecca married the Hon. Israel Kelly, 
about 1S01. He was a son of Moses 
Kelly of Amherst and afterward of Hop- 
kinton, who w T as sheriff of Hillsborough 
county from 1785 to 1809. Israel Kelly 
removed to Salisbury prior to 1S02. He 
was sheriff of Hillsborough county from 
1813 to ISIS, and Judge of the Court of 
Sessions for Merrimack county from 1S23 
to 1S25, when that court was abolished. 
Two daughters of Judge Kelly are now 
living in Concord at advanced age. 

Gratia Fletcher (called u Grace,") was 
educated at the old academy in Atkinson, 
finishing her studies at that venerable in- 
stitution late in the fall of 1S00. Rebecca, 
the widow of Mr. Fletcher, married the 
' Rev. Christopher Paige, January 29, 17SS. 
Mr. Paige was the first minister of Pitts- 
field, being settled there in 17S9. There 
was never a very pleasant feeling exist- 
ing between the two daughters and their 
step-father after they arrived at years of 
understanding, and when Judge Kelly 
moved to Salisbury in 1S02, Gratia made 
her home with her sister Rebecca. It 
was here she first saw Daniel Webster, 
then a young man, just from college, 
studying luw with Thomas W. Thomp- 
son, near his father's house, and in the 
neighborhood of Judge Kelly's. 

An acquaintance sprang up between 
them, which in time became a strong at- 
tachment; but Webster was too busily 
engaged in perfecting his legal studies to 
pay much attention to love affairs. Alter 
his admission to the Suffolk Bar in 1S05, 
however, he returned and practiced law 

in his native town nearly two years, 
where his opportunities were better to 
learn the true character of Grace, which 
he used to say, "improved by studying 
it." Twice the marriage day had been 
appointed, but its arrival found them un- 
prepared- At length Webster settled in 
Portsmouth for a permanent home, and 
returning to Salisbury, was married at 
the house of Judge Kelly in 1S0S. 

Tradition says, that when he went to 
Salisbury, he first saw Grace looking out 
of the chamber window, and addressed 
her as follows: "Grace. what do you 
say? It is to-day or never !"' She replied : 
"Then I say. to-day ! ? ' They were mar- 
ried that afternoon, and soon went to 
their new T home in Portsmouth. 

Mr. Webster's great talent soon led 
him into public notice, his grand politi- 
cal ( areer commencing with his election 
to Congress from this State in 1812. Re- 
moving to Massachusetts in 1S16, he was 
sent to Congress from that State in 1S22, 
and in 1827 was made U. S. Senator. It 
was when on his way to Washington to 
take his seat in the Senate, accompanied 
by his wife, that she became ill and he 
was obliged to leave her in New York. 
Growing no better, she returned home to 
Marshfield, where she died, January 21, 

Grace Fletcher Webster was a lady of 
superior culture and refinement, and 
would well grace any circle. Through 
her husband's national position she was 
often brought into social intercourse with 
the great men of the day — Clay, Benton, 
Calhoun, Adams, Jackson and others — 
and was greatly esteemed and respected 
by all who knew her. She was the idol 
of Webster, who cherished for her, 
through life, a reverential love. She left 
a son named Fletcher Webster and he a 
daughter named^Grace." 

The house in which Mr. Fletcher lived 
and Grace was born, stands on the main 
road leading to Concord, about one mile 
east of nopkinton Village, and. up to the 
spring of 1875. was in its primitive state. 
A portion of a limb from an elm in front 
of the house was sent to the Centennial 
Exhibition last season. 




VOL. 1 AUGUST, 1877. 

NO. 4. 


Among the best known of the repre- 
sentative men of New Hampshire, at the 
present time, from his connection with 
politics, as well as business affairs, Col. 
Henry O. Kent of Lancaster may well be 
conceded a prominent position. In pre- 
senting the readers of the Granite 
Monthly with a brief sketch of Col. 
Kent's career, some allusion to his an- 
cestral history may not come amiss. 

As the name indicates, the Kent family 
is of English origin. There is no direct 
record antedating John Kent, who died 
in 1780 at Cape Ann, Mass., at the age of 
eighty years. His son Jacob, born at 
Chebacco, (now Essex), Mass., in 1726, 
settled in the town of Plaistow, in this 
State. Jn 1760, a regiment of eight hun- 
dred men was raised in New Hampshire, 
commanded by Col. John Goffe of Lon- 
donderry, for the invasion of Canada. Of 
this regiment, one company was officered 
by John Hazen, Captain, Jacob Kent- 
above named— 1st Lieut., and Timothy 
Beadle 2d Lieut. The regiment rendez- 
voued at Litchfield, and marched by Pe- 
terborough and Keene to Number 4, 
(Charlestown), thence cut a road through 
the wilderness 26 miles to the Green 
Mountains, and thence to Crown Point 

on Lake Champlain, where they took wa- 
ter transportation. After a successful 
campaign, they returned through the wil- 
derness via the Newbury meadows, or 
the Cob os country, undoubtedly follow- 
ing the old Indian path up the Oliverian 
and down Baker Itiver to the Pemlgewas- 
set. While returning, Lt. Col. Jacob Bay- 
ley, Captain Hazen, and Lieutenants 
Kent and Beadle, were so favorably im- 
pressed with the fertility of the Cohos 
meadows that they determined to return 
and found a settlement. This project was 
speedily carried out, Bayley and Kent lo- 
cating on the western, and Hazen and 
Beadle on the eastern side of the river, 
from which settlements sprang the towns 
of Newbury, then in the "New Hamp- 
shire Grants," — now in Vermont — and 
Haverhill, N. H. Gen. Jacob Baylev was 
a prominent man in Newbury, through a 
long and useful life. Mauy of his de- 
scendants still reside in the town. Tim- 
othy Beadle, or Bedel, as the name is 
now spelled, was an officer of distinction 
in the subsequent war of the Revolution, 
father of Gen. Moody Bedel of the war 
of 1812, and grand-father of the late Gen. 
John Bedel of Bath and Col. Hazen Be- 
del of Colebrook. 


Jacob Kent, here referred to, died at 
Newbury in 1S12, aged $6 years. He was 
a noted man in his section, commander 
of the first company of militia raised in 
the towns of Newbury and Haverhill "in 
our Province of New Hampshire"— as 
says his old commission, signed in 1764, 
by Benning "Wentworth, and which is 
now in Col. Kent's possession. He was 
a leader in church matters, was for years 
Town Clerk, and County Clerk of Orange 
County — and subsequently and for a long 
period a Judge of the Vermont Judiciary. 
In the Revolution, while burdened with 
the cares of the infant settlement, he was 
an earnest actor in those scenes which 
gave us our independence. He was 
Colonel of the forces in his vicinity, and 
on the advance of Burgoyne, started with 
his regiment for the. field, and was pres- 
ent with it at the capitulation at Saratoga. 

This Jacob Kent left three sons, Jacob, 
John and Joseph. John Kent, grand- 
father of the subject of this sketch, sold 
his share of the patrimony and purchas- 
ed a farm on Parker Hill, in the town of 
Lyman, where he died in 1S42, leaving 
four sons and one daughter. The father 
of Col. Kent was one of these sons — 
Richard Peabody Kent — (his mother Tab- 
itha Peabody, a daughter of Lt. Richard 
Peabody, of the Revolutionary army, 
who lies buried in the old cemetery in 
Littleton, near the Connecticut), who 
was born at Newbury, Yt., Dec, 21, 1S05, 
and is now in active business as a mer- 
chant, at Lancaster, being doubtless the 
senior in point of service of any business 
man in the region. He attended in boy- 
hood, for a time, the Academy at Haver- 
hill, but at an early age went into a coun- 
try store, on Parker Hill, as a clerk, 
thence to Wells River and Bath, and in 
1825, went to Lancaster with Royal Jos- 
lyn, where, in 1828, he engaged in mer- 
cantile pursuits for himself, and has 
steadily followed his vocation. During 
this long career his affairs have been 
transacted with scrupulous integrity, ex- 
actitude and honor. He has never been 
in public life, but has always been inter- 
ested in the development of the region 
and the improvement of the town — wit- 
nessing its growth and prosperity. He 
was formerly Cashier of Lancaster Bank, 

and is now President of the Corporation 
of Lancaster Academy. 

On the maternal side the ancestry of 
Col. Kent is traced to Richard Mann, "a 
planter in the family of Elder Brewster," 
who was one of the colony of the May- 
flower. From him descended that John 
Mann, born Dec. 25, 1743, who was the 
first permanent settler of the town of 
Orford, October, 1765. To him were born 
fifteen children, of whom Solomon Mann 
was well known in the State, as for many 
years the proprietor of "The old Mann 
Tavern," at the upper end of Main street, 
Concord, (the place now or recently oc- 
cupied by Mrs. Smart, on the east side, 
under the great elms, just above Maj. 
Lang's.) To him were born eight chil- 
dren, one of whom, Phebe, married Geo. 
Hough, a printer of Concord, who sub- 
sequently, with his wife, went with Dr. 
Judson as missionaries to Burmah, Brit- 
ish India. The descendants of this 
daughter married with the British resi- 
dents of India, and are now resident in 
England, their children being married 
and settled around them. Emily, the 
second daughter of Solomon Mann, mar- 
ried Henry Oakes, a merchant, who for 
many years was an active and well known 
business man at YVaterford and Thetford, 
Yt. To Henry and Emily (Mann) Oakes 
were born three daughters and a son, 
who died in infancy. Of the daughters, 
Emily Mann Oakes was married to Rich- 
ard P. Kent, June 5, 1832, at Littleton, 
among the friends present on the occa- 
sion being the late Chief Justice Henry 
A. Bellows and the Hon. Edmund Burke, 
then young lawyers just commencing 

To this union there have been born 
three children, sons. Henry Oakes, Ed- 
ward Richard, and Charles Nelson. The 
second son, Edward Richard, is now as- 
sociated in business with his father at 
Lancaster, and the youngest, Charles 
Nelson, who graduated at Norwich Uni- 
versity and Harvard Law School and was 
subsequently admitted to the Suffolk 
Bar, is now in business in the city of 
New York. 

Hexky Oakes Kent was born in Lan- 
caster, Feb. 7, 1834. He attended the 
district school and Lancaster Academy. 



^te 3 


and graduated from Norwich University 
in the class of 1854. Entering the office 
of Hon. Jacob Benton as a student of 
law, he pursued his studies until 1S58, 
when he was admitted to the bar at the 
May Term of Court at Lancaster. Short- 
ly after, he became the proprietor of the 
Coos Republican, and assumed tbe edito- 
rial and business management of that 
paper, his strong interest in political 
affairs and the fortunes of the Republi- 
can party, with which he was actively 
identified, impelling him to this step, in 
taking. which he relinquished the pros- 
pect of a distinguished and successful 
career at the bar. In the management 
of the Republican, both financial and edi- 
torial, he displayed rare skill and ability. 
His leading articles were always strong, 
vigorous, earnest, and secured for his 
paper, notwithstanding its remote loca- 
tion from the capital, an influential posi- 
tion among the party journals of the 
State, and considerate recognition by the 
press of other States. It is safe to say 
that from the time when he assumed its 
management until 1S70, when he sold it 

to its present managers,— a period of 
twelve years,— no paper in the State ren- 
dered more efficient support to the party 
with which it was allied, or advocated 
more heartily all measures tending to 
advance the material prosperity of the 
section in which it was located, than did 
the Coos Republican under the direction 
of Col. Kent. 

Since 1870, Col. Kent has attended to 
a large and growing general office busi- 
ness, to which he had formerly given 
more or less attention ; and also to the 
interests of the Savings Bank of the 
County of Coos, for which institution he 
secured a charter in 18G8, and of which 
he is and has been Treasurer. He is also 
an owner and the present manager of the 
Lancaster Paper Co., an industry furnish- 
ing a market for much of the straw and 
wood of the surrounding region, and em- 
ployment for quite a number of people. 
The Pleasant Valley Starch Mill is also 
an enterprise with which he is connected 
and of which he is Treasurer. The en- 
couragement of local enterprise and in- 
dustry has always been one of his char- 



acteristics. and such means as have been 
at his disposal have been placed in that 

As has been indicated. Col. Kent en- 
tered politieal life as a Republican, and 
was an active advocate of the cause and 
policy of that party, with pen and voice, 
until after the election of Gen. Grant to 
the Presidency. In 1855, being then but 
twenty-one years of age. he was chosen 
Assistant Clerk of the House of Repre- 
sentatives, and re-elected the following 
year. In 1S57 he was chosen Clerk of 
the House, efficiently discharging the 
duties of the office for three successive 
years. In 1S62 he was elected a member 
of the House, and served with marked 
ability, his previous extended experience 
as Clerk admirably fitting him for the 
discharge of legislative duties. He served 
that year as Chairman of the Committee 
on Military Affairs, — a position of much 
^importance, considering the fact that we 
were then in the midst of the war period. 
His next appearance in the Legislature 
was in 1868, when he served as Chairman 
of the Committee on Railroads, and again 
in 1869, when he was at the head of the 
Finance Committee, During each year 
of his legislative service he occupied a 
prominent position among the leaders of 
his party in the House, displaying 
marked ability in debate, and energy and 
industry in the Committee room. 

In 185S a Commission was appointed 
by the States of Maine and New Hamp- 
shire '*to ascertain, survey and mark" 
the boundary between them. The line 
had been established in 1784, and revised 
in 1820, when Hon. Ichabod Bartlett and 
Hon. John W. Weeks were the Commis- 
sioners on the part of New Hampshire. 
The duty of representing this State upon 
the Commission of 1S5S was assigned to 
Col. Kent, and the work was performed 
during the autumn of that year, through 
the wilderness, from the Crown monu- 
ment, on the divide, "separating the wa- 
ters that flow north into the Gulf of St. 
Lawrence from those that flow south 
into the Atlantic Ocean," by the marking 
of permanent lines in the forests and the 
erection of stone posts in the clearings, 
as far south as the towns of Fryeburg and 
Conway. In 1864 Col. Kent was one of 

the Presidential electors of this State, and 
from 18GG to 18GS, inclusive, was a mem- 
ber of the Board of Bank Commissioners. 

At the outbreak of the rebellion, in 
1861, Col. Kent, having volunteered 
in the service, was ordered to Con- 
cord by Gov. Goodwin and commis- 
sioned Assistant Adjutant General, with 
the rank of Colonel, and assigned to duty 
in the recruiting service. Recruiting a 
company in a few days at Lancaster, he 
was ordered to General Headquarters, 
and directed to proceed to Portsmouth, 
where the Second Regiment was form- 
ing. He was continued in duty in the 
Adjutant General's Department until af- 
ter the earlier regiments had left the state. 
In the fall of 1SG2 New Hampshire was 
called upon for three additional regi- 
ments, the Fifteenth, Sixteenth and Seven- 
teenth, which were for convenience, as- 
signed to the First, Second and Third 
Congressional Districts, and Col. Kent 
was commissioned Colonel of the Seven- 
teenth. In order to meet the exigency of 
the time, it was determined to fill the reg- 
iments in their numerical order as fast as 
men enlisted, from whatever locality in 
the State, thus taking all the earlier en- 
listments in Col. Kent's district to fill the 
other regiments and leaving the Seven- 
teenth to be filled by the more dilatory 
from all the districts, an arrangement 
which, while perhaps calculated to best 
promote the general interest," must have 
been anything but agreeable to the per- 
sonal feelings of Col. Kent, largely upon 
the strength of whose name men enough 
for an entire regiment had been raised, 
the town of Lancaster furnishing nearly 
a full company. Nevertheless, the or- 
ganization of the regiment was perfected, 
and drill, discipline and instruction com- 
menced and carried forward. It having 
been determined to postpone the State 
draft, and few more volunteers appearing, 
in February, 1SG3, the officers and men of 
the regiment were furloughed till April 1, 
when the command again reported in 
camp, with the official assurance that 
the regiment would be promptly filled 
and participate in the approaching cam- 
paign. But as is stated in Waite's history 
of New Hampshire in the Rebellion: 

"About this time orders were received 



by Gov. Berry, from the Secretary of 
"War, to consolidate the Seventeenth and 
Second Regiments, under such regula- 
tions as he might prescribe. On the 16th 
of April, 1S63, this order was carried into 
effect, the officers and non-commissioned 
officers of the regiment mustered out, and 
the enlisted men transferred. The or- 
der effecting this expressed in emphatic 
terms the approbation of the civil and 
military authorities of the soldierly de- 
portment of the regiment from the time 
of its organization, and the excellent dis- 
cipline and deportment that had uniform- 
ly characterized the command, was re- 
marked on every hand. The failure to 
fill and forward the Seventeenth Regi- 
ment was in no way attributable to its 
officers, and the circumstances which 
seemed to make the consolidation advi- 
sable were regretted alike by oflicers and 

Though not brought by the fortunes of 
war into active duty at the front, few if 
any men in the State did more than Col. 
Kent to promote the efficiency of the ser- 
vice, and to maintain the reputation of 
New Hampshire for prompt and patriotic 
effort in the Union cause. 

Col. Kent was an active member of the 
organization known as the ""Governors 
Horse Guards," which was formed for 
parade ou the occasion of the annual in- 
auguration of the Governor, and for so- 
cial enjoyment. He held the office of Ma- 
jor in this organization in 1SG0, and rode 
as Colonel in the same in 1S63-4-5. He 
has long been prominent in the Masonic 
order, having been made a Mason in 
North Star Lodge, No 8. of Lancaster in 
1855, in which he passed the chair, and 
has frequently been District Deputy 
Grand Master. In 1SCS and 1S69 he was 
Grand Commander of the order of Knights 
Templar, and appendaut orders for the 
jurisdiction of New Hampshire. 

In his association with, and labor for 
the success of the Republican party. Col. 
Kent was actuated by his opposition to 
slavery, which institution and its exten- 
sion he regarded as prejudicial to the re- 
public. He maintained his convictions 
in his paper and on the stump, earnestly 
and yet candidly. After the war, his 
connection with which has been alluded 

to, and the downfall of slavery, he favor- 
ed the burial of past issues and sectional 
bitterness, believing that a restored Union 
in the full sense of the word, renewed 
fraternal relations and a general revival 
of business, were absolutely essential to 
our prosperity, if not to our existence as 
a people. Regarding the policy of Pres- 
ident Grant aud the supporters of his ad- 
ministration, as inimical to such results, 
he found himself unable to sustain the 
measures of the administration party. 
He therefore disposed of bis paper, 
which, as a party organ he could not con- 
scientiously turn over to the other side, 
and engaged in the development and or- 
ganization of the Liberal movement, 
which resulted in the Cincinnati Conven- 
tion and the nomination of Horace Gree- 
ley for the Presidency in 1872. He par- 
ticipated iu that Convention, and was a 
member of the National and Chairman of 
the State Liberal Republican Committee 
in 1872 and 1S73, acting in conjunction 
with Hon. John G. Sinclair, Chairman of 
the Democratic State Committee, in the 
management of the Presidential cam- 
paign of 1S72, in this State. In 1S73 the 
Liberal Republicans ran an independent 
State ticket, but in 1S74 coalesced and 
formally united with the Democratic par- 
ty. The resolutions of the Liberal Com- 
mittee, announcing such purpose of the 
organization, were presented in the Dem- 
ocratic State Convention by Col. Kent, 
whose appearance and announcement eli- 
cited vociferous and prolonged demon- 
strations of enthusiasm in that body. 

The campaign thus opened ended in 
the election of a Democratic Governor 
and Legislature, a result to which the 
earnest labors of Col. Kent contributed 
in no small degree. In recognition of his 
efficient services, as well as acknowledg- 
ed ability, the Democracy of the upper 
portion of the Third District, with some 
in other sections, presented his name in 
the Convention at Charlestown in Janu- 
ary, 1875, for the Congressional nomina- 
tion in that District. Two other able and 
popular candidates, George F. Putnam, 
of Warren, and Horatio Colony, of Keene, 
were also before the Convention. Three 
ballotings were had, the third resulting 
in the nomination of Col. Kent. The 



campaign which followed was close and 
exciting, but resulted in the election of 
Col. Blair, the Republican candidate, by 
a plurality of 209 votes. "While Col. Kent 
ran ahead of his ticket in some localities, 
receiving support which would not have 
been accorded another candidate of the 
same party, there were a few Democrats 
in the District, who, remembering his 
antagonism to their party in former years, 
could not overcome their prejudices suf. 
flciently to give him their support. In 
the Presidential campaign of lS7G,hewas 
early in the field, as a champion of the 
election of Samuel J. Tilden. Commen- 
cing upon the stump in Vermont in Au- 
gust, he addressed several large audiences 
in that state. Returning to New Hamp- 
shire, he was actively engaged for several 
weeks previous to the election, speaking 
in all sections, and everywhere to large 
and enthusiastic audiences, but was en- 
tirely unable to respond to all the calls 
made for his services on the stump. In 
the Democratic Convention in his district 
last winter he was heartily and unani- 
mously accorded a 'second nomination 
and in the canvass that followed, although 
the odds from the start were strongly 
against the Democracy, he made a most 
brilliantrun, the plurality of his opponent, 
Col. Blair, being nearly 400 less than that 
of Gov. Prescott, in the district. 

Col. Kent is now fully engaged in the 
direction of his business affairs, which 
altogether, furnish an ample field for all 
his energies and talent. Yet he has 
abated in no degree his interest in poli- 
tics, and will undoubtedly respond to any 
call which the party with which he is as- 
sociated may hereafter make for his ser- 
vices in its cause. 

As has been said, he has always given 
earnest encouragement to all enterprises 
calculated to promote the material wel- 
fare and prosperity of his section. Not 
the least of these is the Agricultural So- 
ciety of the Counties of Coos and Essex, 
in securing whose organization he was es- 
pecially active. He was for soveral years 
Treasurer of this Society, and contributed 
largely by his efforts toward establish- 

ing it upon its present flourishing basis. 
He has of late declined re-election, but is 
still Treasurer of the Association owning 
the grounds upon which the annual fairs 
of the society are held. 

In the advancement of educational in- 
terests Col. Kent has always been earn- 
estly engaged, and he is at the present 
time a Trustee and Chairman of the Ex- 
ecutive Committee of the Corporation of 
Lancaster Academy, a flourishing educa- 
tional institution. He is also a Trustee 
of Norwich University, and President of 
the "Associated Alumni and Past Cadets" 
of that institution. In 1S75 he addressed 
the associated Alumni at their reunion, 
and in 1S7G, by request, delivered an ad- 
dress at commencement before the Trus- 
tees and assembled audience, which for 
its eloquence and patriotic sentiments, 
secured hearty and general commenda- 

Col. Kent was married in Boston, Jan- 
uary 11, 1857, by the Rev. Dr. Edward X. 
Kirk, to Berenice A. Rowell, daughter of 
Samuel Rowell, a Lancaster farmer, and 
a sister of George P. Rowell, the well 
known advertising agent of New York 
city. They have two children, a daugh- 
ter — Berenice Emily — born October 30, 
1SG6, and a son — Henry Percy — born 
March 8, 1870. Their house is a neat 
and cosy cottage, without pretension to 
elegance, yet the abode of domestic hap- 
piness, comfort and content. Col. Kent's 
religious associations are with the Epis- 
copal worship, and, although not a church 
member, he is, with his family, a regular 
attendant upon the service of St. Paul's 
Church at Lancaster. 

Of fine presence, with genial and 
courteous manners, and strong personal 
magnetism, public spirited, generous and 
obliging, his popularity in his section is 
great, as is evidenced by the large vote 
which he always receives when his name 
is upon the ticket at the elections in his 
own town. Still young, endowed with 
strong mental and physical powers, am- 
bitious and courageous, it is fair to pre- 
sume that he will yet attain still greater 
prominence in political and public affairs. 





The union of New Hampshire and 
Massachusetts lasted thirty-nine years. 
Both States were benefitted by it. One 
government could be more economically 
and efficiently administered than two. 
Its strength was greater, and its man- 
dates were better obeyed. The two prov- 
inces, to all intents, were one, and peace 
and harmony prevailed between them 
throughout the entire period of uuion. 
In 1680 the King of England severed the 
political connection of the two States, 
and appointed for the first time a royal 
governor over New Hampshire. The 
entire population, which then amounted 
to about 4000 souls, were sorely grieved 
at this tyrannical decree. Its only object 
seemed to be the robbery of the people 
by royal favorites and territorial propri- 
etors. From this date to the close of the 
Revolutionary war the people had little 
rest. Kings, royal governors, landlords, 
savages and Frenchmen continually as- 
sailed them. Iu the seventeenth century 
kings and priests still claimed to rule by 
divine right. In England that claim had 
been sorely crippled by the execution of 
Charles I., yet his successor, when he 
donned the royal robes, began to utter 
"great swelling words of vanity,*' like 
his ancestors. He left to the legal voters 
of the Province, who then numbered only 
two hundred and nine, the privilege of 
electing the representatives to the legis- 
lature, but assumed the right to veto all 
their enactments, and retained the power 
of appointing the President, Council and 
all the executive officers of the State. 

The first legislature under the royal 
government met atPortsrnouth in March, 
1680. The meeting was opened by prayer 
and an election sermon by Rev. Mr. 
Moodey. Their first act was an acknowl- 
edgement of their obligations to Massa- 
chusetts. They say: "We acknowledge 
your care of us," — it was thus that the 
feeble colony addressed its more power- 

ful neighbor, — "we thankfully acknowl- 
edge your kindness while we dwelt un- 
der your shadow, owning ourselves deeply 
obliged that, on our earnest request, you 
took us under your government and ruled 
us well. If there be opportunity for us 
to be any wise serviceable to you, we 
shall show how ready we are to embrace 
it. Wishing the presence of God to be 
with you. we crave the benefit of your 
prayers on us, who are separated from 
our brethren." In this resolution we see 
how much of the Puritan spirit had been 
imbibed by them while under the protec- 
tion of the old Bay State. A love of lib- 
erty was equally prominent. Their first 
recorded decree was in these words : 
"No act, imposition, law or ordinance 
shall be valid unless made by the assem- 
bly and approved by the people." In 
this brief enactment are contained the 
Declaration of Independence, the causes 
of the Revolutionary war, and the funda- 
mental principles of the Constitution of 
the United States. When the code of 
this infant government was transmitted 
to England it was condemned for its 
style and matter; its provisions were re- 
jected as "incongruous and absurd." 
The first President, John Cutt, was a 
wealthy merchant of Portsmouth. He 
lived about one year after his appoint- 
ment. The Councillors were natives of 
the Province. They accepted the offices 
conferred upon them by the king, hoping 
to serve as mediators between the king's 
prerogative and the people's rights. 
But they had an accuser of his brethren 
among them. As it was in ancient days, 
when the sons of God assembled, "Satan 
came also among them." The king had 
adopted the claim of Robert Mason, the 
successor of John Mason, the proprietor 
of New Hampshire. John Mason died in 
1635, leaving a daughter, who married 
John Tufton. Her son, Robert Tufton, 
took the surname of Mason, and, as heir 



to his grandfather, came, armed with the 
king's writ, to claim both the soil of the 
Province and a seat in the Council. He 
did not succeed in establishing his claim 
to the soil. The colonial government 
protected the citizens and resisted his ex- 
actions. After the death of President 
Cutt, Mason found in England a lit agent 
for his purposes in Edward Cranfield, 
who was need}-, greedy and ambitious. 
The king gave to Mason power to select 
and appoint the governor of the Prov- 
ince. This unscrupulous adventurer was 
chosen to wrest, by a legal fiction, their 
hardly-gotten earnings from the farmers, 
mechanics and lumbermen of New Hamp- 
shire. With unblushing effrontery Cran- 
field avowed his purpose. Mason bribed 
the king by a promise of one-fifth of all 
quit-rents for the support of the gov- 
ernment, and mortgaged the whole Prov- 
ince to Cranfield for twenty-one years, 
as collateral security for his salary. 
Armed with these frightfully inquisitori- 
al powers, with a liberal salary and the 
expectation of exorbitant tines and nu- 
merous forfeitures, this political cormo- 
rant stooped to his prey. At first, the 
assembly attempted to gain him by a 
gratuity of two hundred and fifty pounds 
toward his salary. The greedy adven- 
turer received the boon without grati- 
tude, and remorselessly "asked for 
more." The u rugged" law-makers of 
the Province resisted his demand, and he 
dissolved the assembly in anger. The 
claims of Mason were resisted both by 
law and force. The u lord Proprietor" 
threatened to sell the houses and lands 
of the peor>le for rent. They appealed 
to the President and Council for an in- 
junction. It was granted. Mason then 
summoned these officers to appear before 
the king within three months to make 
answer to his charges. They retaliated 
by a counter summons to him, and here- 
turned to England to prosecute his 
claims in that country. Cranfield, in his 
rage, threw "firebrands, arrows and 
death" in every direction. He called 
upon the people, by proclamation, to 
take new leases of Mason within one 
month ; and in case of refusal threat- 
ened to bring a ship of war into the har- 

bor of Portsmouth and quarter soldiers 
in their houses. He filled all the offices 
of state with the friends of Mason. He 
brought writs of ejectment against the 
principal land owners. The subservient 
courts brought in verdicts in favor of 
Mason. The people sent Nathaniel 
"Weareof nampton to England to present 
their case at Court and ask for the recall 
of Cranfield. The governor and proprie- 
tor became more oppressive. The min- 
isters of the Congregational Churches 
were prosecuted for not administering 
the sacrament according to the rites of 
the English Church. Mr. Moodey of 
Portsmouth was deposed and imprisoned 
for non-compliance with the governor's 
order. The war waxed hotter and hot- 
ter, and the governor left the Province 
in 1685. Walter Barefoot, a rash and 
unprincipled intriguer, as deputy gov- 
ernor, reigned and robbed in Cranfield's 
stead. The suits of Mason were still 
prosecuted. In 1685 Charles II. died. 
James II. appointed Joseph Dudley Pres- 
ident of the New England Colonies. He 
retained his office but a few months, and 
was succeeded by Sir Edmund Andros as 
Governor-in-chief over all New England. 
He was empowered by the king, "with 
advice of Council, to make laws, impose 
taxes and grant lands." Andros was the 
most selfish and tyrannical of all the 
royal governors. He declared the char- 
ter of Massachusetts forfeited, annulled 
land titles granted under it, and affirmed 
that the Indian deeds were "no better 
than the scratch of a bear's paw." His 
rapacity spared neither friend nor foe. 
Not even Mason was passed by. He only 
escaped his exactions by death at Albany 
in 1688. An Indian war was added to 
other calamities. The English Revolu- 
tion came at this darkest hour of colo- 
nial history to relieve the people. Hear- 
ing that James II. was expelled, and that 
William III. and Mary were raised to the 
throne, in April, 1689, the people of Bos- 
ton and the adjacent towns rebelled, im- 
prisoned Andros and sent him to Eng- 
land for trial. New Hampshire, left 
without responsible government, as a 
temporary expedient, resorted to a sec- 
ond union with Massachusetts. 






The laying of the Direct United States 
Cable to the coast of Xew Hampshire has 
been the means of calling the attention 
of many of our citizens to the mysterious 
process of ocean telegraphy. The sub- 
ject is one not familiar to most people, 
and comparatively few have any intelli- 
gent idea of its modus operandi. We have 
become so familiarized to the "click" of 
the telegraph at all our depots, offices 
and hotels that it is difficult to conceive 
of reading a message that gives no sound. 
It must be borne in mind, however, that 
the means, methods and instruments of 
land and ocean telegraphy are radically 
and totally dissimilar. In order to com- 
prehend the difference, it will be neces- 
sary to consider brieily the Morse or land 
telegraph, and also the nature of its mo- 
tive power — electricity. Of the latter, it 
is sufficient to say that nobody knows 
what it is — we can only deal with its phe- 
nomena as witnessed under varying con- 
ditions. In its terrific form, we see it in 
the passing shower of the midsummer 
afternoon, when the descending bolts of 
lightning shiver houses and trees, and in- 
stantaneously annihilate animal life. In 
gentler moods, it appears in the rustle of 
a silk dress or the stroking of a cat's 
back. It seems to pervade nearly every- 
thing, but from whence it cometh or 
whither it goeth is alike a mystery to 
prince and plebeian. For the purposes of 
telegraphy and experiment electricity is 
usually generated by chemical action. 
The "battery" used in telegraph offices 
is made by placing zinc or copper in glass 
or earthen jars partly filled with water, 
into which is dropped common blue vit- 
riol or sulphite of copper. The vitriol 
dissolves and "precipitates" upon the 
Petals, and in some unknown way gen- 
crates the mysterious agent we call elec- 
tricity. This is the motive power that is 

used in all telegraphs and cables, of what- 
ever name or nature. Xow for the meth- 
ods of conveyance! In the land tele- 
graph the "click" is made by a bar of 
steel that is attracted to and let go by an 
electro-magnet. An electro-magnet is a 
rod of soft iron, bent in horse-shoe form, 
and closely wound with copper wire. 
When connected with a "battery" it is 
instantly endowed with the power of at- 
traction, and as instantly loses it when 
the connection with the battery is sev- 
ered. It will attract a bar of steel just 
as a common "horse-shoe" magnet will 
pick up a needle or a steel pen. With 
the common magnet there is a little bar 
of steel which we call an "armature." 
When the magnet is placed near it, it is 
drawm to the ends of the bent iron and 
held there by the power of magnetic at- 
traction. The natural magnet , will at- 
tract, but it wont let go I The electro- 
magnet, or a magnet by electricity, will 
attract or let go at the will of the opera- 
tor. Put the electro-magnet on one end 
of your table, and the bottle or jar con- 
taining the battery on the other, connect 
and disconnect it with the wires, and you 
can see at a glance how r a rod of iron 
wouud with copper wire is a magnet one 
moment and not a magnet the next. Put 
the battery in Portland and the electro- 
magnet in New Orleans, connect them 
with a wire, and the result is all the 
same. Put a pki on the end of the steel 
armature, and some clock-work to regu- 
late the passage of a strip of paper over 
it, and you have substantially the Morse 
or common land telegraph. The knob 
or "key" which the operator presses 
down with the ringer is the means used 
to connect and disconnect the magnet with 
the battery, or, as the electricians term 
it. to "break the circuit." Thus every 
touch of the key produces a correspond- 



ing motion of the armature at the other 
end, whether a foot or ten thousand miles 
apart. An ocean cable differs from a 
land telegraph: 1— in its construction, 
2 — in the medium through which it 
passes, 3 — in its operation. Its construc- 
tion is similar in only one respect, and 
that is that in both cases a single wire 
conveys the message. On land the wire 
is hung up on poles and run through 
glass "insulators" to prevent the current 
from passing down the poles into the 
earth. The cable wire must be "insulat- 
ed" the whole length, for if it comes in 
contact with the water it is entirely 
worthless. "Water is the best known con- 
ductor of electricity, and its presence is 
fatal to the passage of the current. How, 
then, to lay a wire through three thou- 
sand miles of water and not touch it is 
the first problem to be solved in ocean 
telegraphy. A glass tube would answer 
the purpose, but is out of the question. 
A more pliable substance (gutta percha) 
has been found, which is a non-conductor 
of electricity, and in which the conduct- 
ing wire is embedded. Other wires are 
wound around to strengthen it, and more 
gutta percha added, to make assurance 
doubly sure that no treacherous drop of 
water shall penetrate and destroy the ca- 
ble. The thrusting into the central wire 
of a penknife blade, or the scraping off a 
piece of the gutta percha as large as a 
pea, would be as effectual in destroying 
its working power as to cut out a hun- 
dred miles of cable and carry it ashore. 
Absolute perfection, and nothing less, 
ensures the transmission of a current of 
electricity through any submarine cable. 
A single wire thoroughly covered 
with only a very thin coating of any 
non-conducting substance would an- 
swer every purpose for the transmission 
of messages, but it would soon be broken 
in the uneven depths of the ocean. The 
additional wires are put on to lessen its 
chances of injury, as well as to render it 
impervious to water. In deep water, 
where the surface action caused by wind 
and tides is not felt, the cable is about an 
inch and a quarter in diameter, while the 
twenty miles of shore end, whiclfis ex- 
posed to the heavy seas and ground 
swell, is as large as a man's wrist, and 

completely encased in a net-work of 
heavy wires— the whole weighing some 
twenty tons to the mile. 

The cable having been laid, and every- 
thing in working order between Rye 
Beach and Torbay, let us enter the room 
where the operator sits, and observe the 
method by which he communicates with 
the operator at the other end of the cable. 
The first glance dispels all ideas of pon- 
derous machinery. All the instruments 
used in telegraphing and testing are 
placed upon a table five feet long and 
two feet wide. The instruments used iu 
merely sending and receiving messages 
could all be put in a little box and car- 
ried in one hand by a child five years 
old. All are specimens of the most mag- 
nificent and delicate workmanship, and 
are very costly. The room is darkened, 
and as you enter you see a small lamp so 
screened as to throw the light in a cer- 
tain direction. All being in readiness, 
the operator sits down to send a message. 
He taps the "key" as in the land tele- 
graph, only it is a double key. It has 
two levers and knobs instead of one. 
The alphabet is substantially like the 
Morse alphabet ; that is, the letters are 
represented by dashes and dots. For in- 
stance : Suppose you wish to write the 
word "Boy." It would read like this : 

. B is one dash 

and three dots. O is three dashes. Y is 
one dash, one dot and two dashes. Xow 
in the land telegraph the dots and dashes 
would appear on the strip of paper which 
is perforated by a pin at the end of the 
bar connected with the armature. 

If the operator could read by sound, he 
would dispense with the strip of paper, 
and read the message by the "click" of 
the armature as it is pulled down and 
let go by the electro- nagnet. But the 
cable operator has neither of these ad- 
vantages. There is no paper to perfor- 
ate, no click of the armature, no arma- 
tnre to click. The message is read by 
means of a moving flash of light upon a 
polished mirror, produced by the "deflec- 
tion" of a very small mirror which is 
placed within a "galvanometer." 

I must here digress again and explain 
what is meant by a "mirror galvanome- 
ter." It is a small brass cvlinder. two 



or three inches in diameter, shaped like 
a spool or bobbin, and wound with sev- 
eral thousand turns of small wire, which 
is wound with fine silk to keep the metal 
from coming in contact. It is wound or 
coiled exactly like a bundle of new rope. 
a small hole being left in the middle a lit- 
tle larger than a common wooden pencil. 
In the centre of this is suspended a very 
thin, delicate mirror, about as large over 
as a kernel of corn, with a corresponding 
small magnet rigidly attached to the 
back of it. The whole weighs but little 
more than a grain, and is suspended by 
a single fibre of silk much smaller than 
a human hair, and almost invisible. A 
scale is placed two or three feet from the 
mirror, a narrow slit being cut in the 
centre of the scale to allow a ray of light 
to shine upon the mirror from a lamp 
placed behind said scale, the little mir- 
ror, in turn, reflecting the light upon the 
scale. This spot of light upon the scale 
is the index by whieh all the messages 
are read. The angle through which the 
ray moves is double that traversed by 
the mirror itself, and it is, therefore, 
really equivalent to an index four or six 
feet in length without weight. To give 
an idea of the extreme delicacy of this 
apparatus, I may state that messages 
have actually been sent by means of a 
common percussion gun-cap fitted with 
a very small piece of zinc, excited to 
electrical action by a drop of acidulated 
water of the simple bulk of a tear. 

"When the operator at Rye Beach sends 
a message, each word is spelled out in 
full, in the ordinary way, by tapping the 
double "key" before mentioned. The 
right hand strokes correspond to the 
dashes, and the left hand strokes to the 
dots of the ordinary land telegraph. 
[The cable code varies a little from the 
Morse code.] When the operator at Eye 
Beach presses down the right hand 
"key," he causes a current of electricity 
to flow, feeble though it is, in a certain 
direction, which passes through the coil 
of the galvanometer at Torbay (GOO miles 
distant), which affects the magnetism of 
the little magnet attached to the mirror 
f md causes it to "deflect" or turn to the 
right. When the left hand "key" is 
pressed down, the current circulates in 

the opposite direction, and, obviously, 
causes the little mirror to move in the 
opposite direction. Of course, when the 
mirror moves, the ray of light moves 
with it. By this means the right and 
left hand strokes— whieh represent the 
dashes and dots — are obtained, thus en- 
abling the operator to read the message. 

To the casual spectator, there is noth- 
ing but a thin ray of light darting about 
with irregular rapidity ; but to the trained 
eye of the operator every flash is replete 
with intelligence. Thus the word "boy,-' 
already alluded to, would be read in this 
way; One flash to the right and three to 
the left is B. Three flashes to the right 
is O. One to the right, one to the left 
and two more to the right is Y, and so 
on. Long and constant practice makes 
the operators expert in their profession, 
and enables them to read from the mir- 
ror as readily and as accurately as from 
a book or a newspaper. The galvanom- 
eter used is the invention of Sir William 
Thomson of Scotland, who is also the in- 
ventor of several other splendid instru- 
ments used in telegraphy, principally for 
"testing'' purposes, aud consequently of 
the most delicate kind. 

The "testing" of the cable is a wonder- 
ful and mysterious process, by which the 
electrician can sit at a table on either 
side of the ocean and in an hour "locate" 
the exact spot where the conducting 
power of the cable may be in the slight- 
est degree impaired. It does not always 
follow that the cable is broken, or even 
very badly fractured, when the electric 
current is interrupted. It may be that 
the ""insulation'' is imperfect ; for the con- 
ducting power of a cable depends upon 
the perfection of its "insulation" — that 
is, its ability to retain the whole of the 
current sent over the condncting wire, 
by being completely imbedded in a gutta 
percha covering, which is a non-conduc- 
tor of electricity. Perhaps the gutta 
percha may have been scraped off by 
chafing on a rock. It may have been 
cracked by receiving some unusual ten- 
sion. It may have been ruptured, if near 
the shore, by the grapnel of some boat 
or vessel. Possibly some prying fish 
may have tried his teeth upon it. Any 
of these or similar causes would be sufli- 



cient to injure the insulation and allow 
the electricity to escape into the water, 
which is a natural conductor of it. It 
would be precisely the same as if a large 
hole were bored in the under side of a 
lead pipe conveying water to a tank. 

Supposing, however, that the fracture 
is complete, or at least serious enough 
to destroy the usual communication be- 
tween the operators at the two ends. It 
is obvious that the cable must be grap- 
pled up and repaired, or it is entirely 
worthless. A single inch of defective 
wire renders the whole of no account. 
Before it can be used again a ship is sent 
out, furnished with the necessary grap- 
pling apparatus, to the vicinity where 
the trouble exists. The "fault" is cut 
out a new splice made, and the cable is 
dropped again upon the bottom of the 

One of the principal instruments used 
in "testing"' is known as Thomson's re- 
flecting galvanometer, and is the inven- 
tion of Sir William Thomson of Glasgow 
University, Scotland. It is a small in- 
strument, of elegant workmanship and 
extreme delicacy, consisting of a very 
small magnetic needle about three- 
eighths of an inch long, fixed to the back 
of a small circular mirror, whose diame- 
ter is about equal to the length of the 
magnet. In this respect it is similar to 
the mirror used in reading messages. 
The mirror is sometimes a plano-convex 
lens of about six feet focus, and is sus- 
pended from the circumference by a sin- 
gle cocoon fiber without torsion — the 
magnetic needle being at right angles 
with the fiber. The cocoon fiber is silk 
in its raw state, infinitely finer than the 
finest manufactured thread, and of course 
susceptible to the slightest movement in 
any direction. The mirror is placed in the 
axle' of a coil of wire, some four or five 
inches across, which completely sur- 
rounds it, so that the needle is always 
under the influence of the coil at what- 
ever angle it is deflected to. A beam of 
light from a lamp placed behind a screen 
about three feet distant from the coil 
falls on the little mirror, the bottom of 
which is slightly in advance of the top, 
and is reflected back on to a graduated 
scale placed just above the point where 

the beam of light emerges from the lamp. 
The screen is, as we have before said, 
straight, and is graduated to 3G0 divisions 
on either side of the zero point. This 
scale being placed about three feet dis- 
tant from the mirror, it is obvious that a 
very small angular movement of the lit- 
tle mirror will cause the spot of light re- 
flected on the scale to move a considera- 
ble distance across it. 

A very good illustration ot how this 
operation may be accomplished, is to 
take a common looking-glass, hold it in 
front of you, place a lighted lamp or 
caudle in front, and notice the spot of 
light that will be reflected upon the wall 
of the room behind the lamp. Turn the 
glass from side to side, and of course the 
spot of light upon the wall moves in a 
corresponding manner. A similar phe- 
nomenon may sometimes be observed in 
the school-room, when some roguish 
youth directs the light of his little pocket 
mirror to the opposite side of the house 
and causes the concentrated rays of the 
sun to illuminate the optics of some juve- 
nile sweetheart. 

The needle of the galvanometer being 
very small, and being placed in the cen- 
ter of the coil of wire previously alluded 
to, everj r current of electricity deflects it, 
and deflects it to a degree directly pro- 
portional to the strength of the current. 
This being a known fact, the next step 
is to know how much electricity is sent 
out from a given battery, and where it 
goes to. Also to know if it meets with 
any resistance on its passage, and if so, 
how much, and where. The solution of 
these problems covers the whole ground 
of "testing." First of all, then, the ma- 
terials of which the cable is composed 
must be known, and the exact amount 
of resistance that the metal offers to the 
passage of the electrical current. Xo 
two metals have the same power of con- 
ductivity, and a wire composed of pure 
copper will offer less resistance than one 
composed of the baser metals. The 
weight of the central or conducting wire 
of the direct cable is between 300 and 400 
pounds to the mile, and is made of pure 
copper. The exact amount of resistance 
that it offers is known by the thousands 
of tests made during its manufacture and 



its subsequent immersion beneath the 
waters of the ocean. 

In order to measure the strength of the 
current, it is plain that some fixed 
standard of measurement must be adopt- 
ed; hence the electricians use "Siemen's 
Unit" a.nd the "Ohm," which are con- 
vertible terms, and are called the "units 
of resistance," in the same manner that 
sn inch, a foot, a mile, are standard meas- 
urements of length. For convenience, a 
very small wire of pure copper, weigh- 
ing but a pound to the nautical mile, is 
assumed as a standard, and is found to 
offer to the passage of the electric cur- 
rent a resistance of 1091.22 ohms, when 
the wire is at a temperature of 32 de- 
grees, or the freezing point of Fahren- 
heit. It must be borne in mind right 
here that the temperature of the wire 
has a marked effect upon the transmission 
of the current, and adds another impor- 
tant factor to the complication of the 
problem. The resistance increases direct- 
ly With the length of a cable, and de- 
creases inversely with its weight ; that 
is to say, a large wire will offer less re- 
sistance to the current than a small one, 
because it contains a greater amount of 
conducting surface. 

A very curious thing about the in- 
creased resistance, coincident with the 
rise in temperature, is that the resistance 
increases in exactly the same manner 
as a sum of money put out at compound 
interest. The resistance compounds it- 
self with every degree of increasing heat. 
For instance, it has been found that each 
degree increases the resistance eight thou- 
sand nine hundred and fifty ten-millionths 
of an ohm (.000S950). Now the resist- 
ance at 32 degrees being 1091.22 ohms, 
the resistance at 33 degrees will be 
1091.22 plus .000S95O=1091.2208950, and 
the resistance for 34 degrees will be the 
latter sum plus the .0003950, and so on. 
This law enables the electrician to con- 
struct tables for the reduction of read- 
ings of resistance to the standard of 75 
degrees Fahrenheit, and for a calculation 
for the reading at any temperature, from 
a test made at any other. Knowing 
these and other minor facts, whenever a 
cable ceases to work, the electrician has 
his tables of resistance and other mathe- 

matical computations at hand to aid him 
in his work, just as the bank accountant 
consults his interest tables, or the sur- 
veyor his table of logarithms. 

The process of testing is materially 
shortened by the use of the table of log- 
arithms, as it enables the electrician to 
avoid the long and tedious processes of 
multiplication, division, and extraction 
of roots. The exact resistance of a per- 
fect cable of a given length being known, 
the electrician constructs a perfect arti- 
ficial one of any required length, and 
compares the defective one with it. This 
statement may seem improbable, and the 
natural inference would be that it would 
not be very convenient to have anywhere 
from 500 to 3000 miles of cable piled up 
in an office. But it is quite convenient — 
in fact, absolutely indispensable — and a 
thousand or two miles of ocean cable 
may be piled up in a box on a common 
table. This seemiug paradox is ex- 
plained by the fact already alluded to, 
that the resistance to the electric current 
decreases inversely with the weight of 
the wire. Consequently a coil of very 
small wire will represent the same 
amount of resistance as a much greater 
length of larger wire — exactly upon the 
same principle that an architect can rep- 
resent the immense centennial buildings 
upon a card, or the artist a vast extent 
of landscape upon a small strip of can- 
vas. For the purpose of testing, "resist- 
ing coils" are prepared, consisting of 
wire drawn out exceedingly fine and 
wound upon reels like a fish-line. They are 
placed in different sections of a box made 
for the purpose, and thoroughly tested, 
and graduated to represent so many hun- 
dred or thousand units of resistance 
(ohms). Metallic pins, connecting with 
the battery, are so adjusted as to connect 
or disconnect the coil with the battery, 
at the pleasure of the operator. Thus 
the electrician can construct in a minute, 
right before him, a perfect cable of any 
required length. 

His real cable, which lies at the bottom 
of the ocean, having ceased to work, he 
has only to compare it with the artificial 
one before him to find out where the 
trouble is. lie hitches up the wire of 
the defunct cable to the reflecting galvan- 



ometer, and sends through it a current of 
electricity. The amount of resistance 
that the current meets upon its passage 
is instantly recorded before his eyes by. 
the spot of light moving out upon the 
scale a certain number of degrees. This, 
as already explained, is caused by the 
"deflection" of the little mirror, whose 
magnetic needle is influenced by the 
strength of the current. Suppose, for 
instance, that the spot of light is deflect- 
ed 40 degrees upon the scale. The elec- 
trician then disconnects the cable, and in 
its place hitches on some of the resistance 
coils, which is simply another cable. 

. Suppose he hitches on enough of them 
to represent 200 miles of real cable. He 
then turns on the same electric current 
as before, and finds that the spot of iight 
moves out upon the scale only 30 degrees. 

( What is the inference? Why, simply 
that the interruption in the real cable is 
more than 200 miles from the shore, be- 
cause 200 miles of the artificial cable does 
not produce the requisite deflection. 
Well, suppose he hitches on another hun- 
dred miles of resistance coils, and then 
finds the light deflected exactly 40 de- 
grees upon the scale — what then : Why, 
he has found the break. It is the fourth 
term of the proportion ; the equality of 
ratios. It is thus, after taking numerous 
and repeated tests (the mean of the 
whole being taken) that the exact spot 
of the break is "located,'' and final direc- 
tions given to the company's officers sent 
out to repair it. Every test requires the 
utmost exactness and nicety of manipu- 
lation, and the greatest care in the math- 
ematical calculations. 

Various methods of "testing" are em- 
ployed, but the one described includes 
the general principles of the science, and 
the materials used. The direct com- 
pany's electricians use, in addition to the 
mirror, what is known as the "Wheat- 
stone bridge," by which it is claimed a 
greater degree of accuracy can be ob- 

tained, but the process is too complicated 
for an ordinary magazine article. When- 
ever a ship has been sent out to repair a 
break in the cable, the electricians and 
operators sit night and day aud watch 
for the first movement of the little mir- 
ror by which messages are read ; until 
finally the long-expected flash indicates 
intelligence at the other end. Messages 
are sent and received, tests made, the 
broken ends reunited, and finally the de- 
lighted operator finds it will again re- 
spond to his magic touch. 

The "picking up'' of the cable from 
the bottom of the ocean is attended with 
immense expense, inasmuch as it re- 
quires a ship specially adapted for the 
business. The direct cable was laid and 
repaired by the "Farraday," which is 
one of the largest ships in the world, 
and was built expressly for laying ocean 
cables, by the Siemens Brothers, con- 
tractors, and is owned by the firm. She 
cost a million and a half dollars, meas- 
ures over five thousand tons, carries a 
crew of three hundred men, and is let to 
repair defunct cables for the modest sum 
of Jive thousand dollars per day ! 

She is supplied with all the appliances 
that modern science and ingenuity can 
invent, and is a marvel of machiuery from 
end to end. The "hunting for a needle 
in a hay-mow," which was the tradition- 
al impossibility of a quarter century ago, 
is thrown completely in the shade by 
this five thousand ton monster of marine 
architecture that gropes amid the tem- 
pests of the Xorth Atlantic, hunting 
for — and finding — a rope of wire no 
larger than a whip-stock, and that, too, 
in water two and a half miles deep I That 
a wire can be laid across the ocean com- 
pletely impervious to the element in 
which it is submerged, and become a ve- 
hicle of thought, is a triumph of man's 
ingenuity that must forever remain as 
one of the foremost wonders of the nine- 
teenth century. 

winnipesaukee lake. hi 



Noiselessly skimming o'er the brimming 
Lake, down past the silvery edge 
Of wav'ring shadows fleeing ; 
Steering straight for sandy landing, ledge- 
Bound, hedge-bound, swimming birds and trimming 
Herds fearing at our appearing, 
Glided we so light and airy, 
Startled we no timid fairy. 

Aground, skiff rocking, bubbles knocking 

Wildly round the foaming surf 

It made, we spring, enchanted, haunted 

By strange fancies, on the turf; 

No thought unlocking, — Nature talking, 

Smiling at our courage daunted : 

There would we the world's care banish, 

Cause all weary thoughts to vanish. 

Far from the gnashing jaws of clashing 

.Toil, to man before unknown, 

That shore was ours for singing, ringing 

Laughter; after, dreaming lone 

By bright waves dashing, ever flashing 

In the clinging sunlight, bringing 

Back to thought some spoken sentence, 

Spoken ere we thought repentance. 

Clear springs were calling, crystals falling, 
Sparkling, laughing, as they ran 
Adown the valley winding, finding 
Quietude away from man. 
Away from crawling, soul-appalling, 
Human grinding, by ever minding 
Conscience, Nature, Laws of Heaven, 
Could we there the whole lump leaven? 

Thro' the entrancing glen advancing, 

Gleeful as the witching day; 

O'er the bright green moss tripping, sipping 

Joys not dreamed of yesterday ; 

Not backward glancing; prancing, dancing, 

To fount slipping, dipping, dripping, 

We the hours chased, benighted — 

Glided back by moonbeams lighted. 

Weirs, N. H., July 31, 1877. 





It was Harry Lettredge's wedding day. 
He was to lead to the altar sweet Kittie 
Mordant, the fairest daughter of all the 
land. The fashionable circles of the little 
city had been jubilant these past weeks in 
anticipation of the coming event, in lay- 
ing out flowery paths and overhanging 
cloudless skies for the happy pair; for 
every body declared it not only the wed- 
ding of the season, but the uniting of 
soul-lit hearts by spiritual bands of adap- 

Harry Lettredge was just the man to 
reach forward and secure the prize which 
for so long had stood in its bewitching 
beauty far above the reach of those who 
had revolved like money-sheathed satel- 
lites around its parental pedestal. Just 
above the medium height, he bore a form 
erect and symmetrical; and yet, while 
he swayed his body with a graceful bear- 
ing, you would know by the way he set 
his foot upon the pavement that a pur- 
pose lay buried within which would 
some day arouse and show itself with 
marked distinction. Although not proud 
and haughty, in the sense the world de- 
fines those elements, yet there was 
enough of the French Corsican blood 
from which he descended to give him an 
air of pride and gallantry; while his 
broad high forehead and keen, though 
pleasant, black eye acted as tell-tales of 
an intellect both strong and brilliant; at 
the same time his fine moral and reli- 
gious principle, his upright and gentle- 
manly deportment, his cordial and genial 
greeting during his daily business inter- 
course had won for him a reputation and 
friendship of which he might well feel 
proud; while sweet Kittie Mordant, with 
her innocent loveliness, seemed just the 
counterpart of his other self. Although 
reared in a luxurious home, beneath the 
protecting care of indulgent parents, yet 
those finer elements which interlace 

themselves in the formation of a beauti- 
ful wife and loving mother had not been 
neglected, or buried beneath a mass of 
fashionable accomplishments, but instead 
had been brought to the surface, and cul- 
tivated by the good sense and foresight 
of her most worthy parents. Although 
her lips were wreathed with a sweet, hap- 
py smile, yet when you saw the Hashing 
of her deep blue eye, you felt that some- 
thing powerful lay hidden beyond, and 
your very heart stood still while you list- 
ened to her outgushings of thought and 
feeling ; — therefore, their approaching 
union was like the coming together of 
two opposite clouds, blending and form- 
ing one beautiful whole; or the tones of 
two voices, the one a sweet soprano, the 
other a smooth basso, uniting and sending 
forth strains of perfect harmony. 

Never a more lovely morning dawned. 
It seemed as if the day-queen had donned 
her most brilliant array, that she might 
be accepted as an honored guest to the 
wedding. But towards the approaching 
hour for the confirmation of those vows 
so sacredly given, a heavy cloud had 
gathered, and already the rain-drops be- 
gan to patter against the window-pane. 
The wedding party had breakfasted at 
the home of the bride, and now most of 
them were busy arranging their wedding 
garments. In the parlor, in an easy 
chair, and just within the folds of the 
drapery which festooned the bay win- 
dow, half reclined a middle-aged lady, 
her handsome face resting upon one 
hand, while the other hung listless by 
her side, — so lost in her own meditations 
that she did not hear the approaching 
footsteps upon the soft carpet, or realize 
the loving presence on a cushion at her 
feet, until a tender arm encircled her 
waist, and the pressing of two lips upon 
the disengaged hand at her side. 



"Ah, my mother, alone? A penny for 
your thoughts ! "What," he said, as she 
turned her love-lit eyes upon him, glis- 
tening like sun-rays through the drops of 
a clearing up shower, "what, sad, aud a 
tear upon your blessed eheek? Do you 
not think I have chosen wisely, ray dar- 
ling mother? 7 ' 

"Aye, wisely, my own Harry!" But 
do you not seethe dark, heavy clouds, 
and hear the rain drops already falling? 
You know the old adage — l As your wed- 
ding day, so will }~our life be ;" and some- 
how, as I listen to the tiny drops patting 
on the window-pane, they seem to whis- 
per to my heart of coming shadows : aud 
their sad echoes seem permeating my 
whole being with a threatening fear! I 
can but feel that the beautiful sunshine 
and the gathering clouds are but sym- 
bols of your own future life !" 

"Ah! let me kiss away these tears," 
he said, bending over her chair. "I can 
not eudure a shadow on your face my 
wedding day! Cheer up, and bind our 
nuptials by your smiles, precious mother ! 
I hope, my beautiful mother"' (as he was 
wont to call her) "will not harbor any 
suspicious intruders at our wedding!-' 
and he cast a loving smile upon her. 
'We must not lose our trust in the Fa- 
ther, if we do, our anchor of hope sinks to 
the bottom. But here conies Kittie — do 
not cloud her sky — rather let me intro- 
duce her as your youngest daughter!" 
he said, while a merry laugh followed his 

In a moment the great strength of her 
nature had subdued every trace of sad- 
ness, and, rising, she pressed the rosy 
lips of the lovely being before her; and 
then, placing their right hands together, 
she held them within her own. while, 
with her beautiful eyes lifted heaven- 
ward, she asked God "to bless and keep 

The church looked very lovely in its 
festive dress of many-colored bloom. 
Trailing little vines and lovely bouquets 
peeped from every nook and corner; 
while in front of the chancel stood up 
proudly, arches of evergreens, dotted 
here. aud there with half-laughing rose- 
buds. Long before the appointed hour 

every seat and standing place had been 
filled with auxious hearts and eager eyes 
to witness the marriage of her whose 
winning ways and sunny smiles had en- 
deared her to the many in the church 
she was wont to worship. 

The ushers had been busy the last hour 
in seating the invited guests— her friends 
to the right, his to the left ; and every- 
body seemed brimful of happiness, as 
their smiling faces attested, — but one lit- 
tle shadow, and that -rested upon the 
serene face of his "beautiful mother!" 
But no one took note of this, for scarce a 
true mother who does not feel a sharp 
pang in giving away her son. to whom 
she has been all the world, and who 
knows in her heart of hearts that she can 
never be quite the same to him again, as 
this other must needs fill the dearest uook 
in his existence. However, the shadows 
reached no farther than her own sweet 
face, and everything went on as "merry 
as a marriage bell," spite the drizzling 
rain outside. 

By and by the organ began to peal 
forth the marriage march, announcing 
that the bridal party were waiting in the 
vestibule. Hushed as midnight air was 
the vast assembly, whose very heart- 
beatings you could hear as the bridal 
party entered. First, the bridemaids, 
looking like fairy queens in their floating 
airy dresses, scattering, as they came, 
tiny flowers to be crushed by the feet of 
the bride as she approached the altar to 
seal her troth-plight ; then the blushing 
bride, pure as a lily, with no color to mar 
its sweetness, leaning upon her father's 
arm; after which the mother, who was 
seated by the happy bridegroom, who, 
politely bowing, passed on and knelt be- 
fore the altar beside her he had chosen, 
and under the marriage bell, which had 
been twined and hung by loving hands 
above them. 

During the ceremony the rain drops 
had ceased their gentle pattings — the 
dark, heavy clouds, as if half-ashamed of 
their intrusion, had secreted themselves 
behind those silvery and floating; while 
the day-queen came forth from her deep 
blue hidings, dressed in all her brilliancy. 
Just as the good rector was pronouncing 
them "husband and wife," she sent her 



bright rays through a western window, 
where they danced for a moment in 
thread-like flushes, then dividing them- 
selves, rested, as if in blessing, upon the 
happy bride and groom. 

A more lovely scene could not have 
been pictured — the church, filled with 
its halo of joy — the nodding blossoms, 
sparkling like crystalized beauties in the 
bright sunlight — the white-robed rector, 
looking almost ethereal — the altar, with 
its burning tapers in the background; 
while that youthful couple standing be- 
neath the resting sunbeams, formed a 
most pleasing foreground. 

As the bridal party emerged from the 
church, it seemed as if the crowning 
glory of the occasion had risen up to 
offer her warm congratulations — a most 
brilliant rainbow hanging like a ribbon 
of promise from the blue heavens before 
them. The quick perception of the over- 
joyed mother caught up the threads of 
happy circumstances, and her thoughts 
went on weaving a bright border around 
her web of mental illusion. 

"Dear mother," said Harry, on taking 
her hand at parting, wt I am so glad to see 
your happy smiles again ! This mor- 
ning my own joy was stayed by your 
sadness, and I almost feared the step I 
was about, to take— but now I feel strong 
and can walk forth into this new life 
with renewed hope and courage, for 
your smiles, precious mother, will illume 
my path like a lamp of love at my feet ! 
But tell me what magic power has 
changed your tears into these happy 
smiles? Your face seems radiant with 
the joy your heart is feeling ! Was it the 
beautiful service of our beloved church, 
dear mother, that quickened them into 
birth, or this beautiful afternoon sun- 

"Aye, my own Harry, both. The ser- 
vice of our church is never rendered 
without its beautiful meaning thrilling 
the deepest recesses of my heart ; but to- 
day this clearing up shower, with it3 
veil of bright sunshine and ribbon of 
rainbow tints, has proved the reviving 
elixir, sending forth these happy smiles 
and hanging a bow of promise in my 
heart. Listen, my son, and mark you 
well. This day have I symbolized with 

your life. Your present joy, in connec- 
tion with your business prospects, is the 
lovely morning with its happy sunshine; 
but by and by the sky that now looks so 
clear and promising will have become 
murky and foreboding— heavy clouds of 
adversity gather, sending forth their 
pelting rains upon you. "Whether heart, 
fortune or both shall be engulfed remain- 
eth only to the Father. Be the call ever 
so great, give answer, never for a mo- 
ment losing your trust that He will, in 
His own good time, bring you forth into 
the sunshine again, purified and made 
better by His refining process. Promise 
me, dear Harry, that when these clouds 
shall gather, as they surely will, you will 
be brave and meet them manfully, re- 
membering that the brightest sunshine 
and most brilliant rainbow are more often 
an answering smile to storms most 
threatening and fearful !" 

"Yes, my own beautiful mother, T will 
promise ; for with Kittie's loving influ- 
ence and your precious love and coun- 
sel, I can be brave and manfully meet 
whatever betide!" 

"Then go, and a mother's blessing 
shall follow you!" 

Five years of matrimonial sunshine — 
five years of business prosperity, had 
been gathered up by the hand of Time 
and tossed ; 'among the things that were." 
The financial sky, which but yesterday 
looked so bright and promising, had sud- 
denly, very suddenly, become dark and 
threatening — clouds, heavy and forebod- 
ing, were driving with maddening fury 
those light and floating— lightning flash- 
es, sharp and repeating, seemed rending 
the darkness, and already the rain drops 
of fear were beating against the hearts 
of anxious men! But one peal from the 
leading houses of business, and those 
subordinate and weaker must needs fall 
beneath the rushing torrents which fol- 
low! — and it came with such sudden fury 
that poor Harry Lettredge had not time 
to raise even a slight protection above 
him ! 

For the moment he seemed unmanned 
by the great calamity which had befal- 
len him, — not so much for himself as for 
the dear ones who must sutler with him, 



and bowing his head upon his office ta- 
ble he groaned aloud : 

"Poor, dear Kate and the children !" 

So, lost in his own sad meditations, he 
heard not the soft footsteps of a loving 
presence — knew not that an earthly an- 
gel was kneeling beside him, overshad- 
owing him with her wings of love and 
sympathy, until a well-known voice, 
sweeter than flute notes in that hour of 
his great need, fell upon his ear, and a 
tender hand parted back the locks from 
his cold, damp brow. 

"What, dear Harry, troubles you? 
Have you fallen asleep and dreaming?*' 

"Would to God it were a dream, pre- 
cious Kittie ! But oh ! it is a reality that 
has nearly killed me ! To-day I am a 
ruined man — all, all is gone !" 

With that keen conception which 
formed a striking feature in her charac- 
ter, she seemed to gather in at a glance 
the fearful meaning of his words ; while 
those stronger elements which had so 
long lain dormant for want of a proper 
stimulus aroused themselves, rushing to 
the rescue and saving her from that sloth 
of despondency into which those of a 
weaker nature must inevitably have 

"I know it is hard, dear Harry," she 
said, "to have your bright prospects 
swept away by a breath of misfortune, 
yet if we do not lose our trust in the 
Father we may see something, even in 
the darkness of this hour, to give us con- 
solation, — it may be an angel's visit, al- 
though we can not behold her sweet face 
from the thick veil of mystery which cov- 
ers itl Let us peep beyond the dark, 
gloomy cloud which overshadows us, and 
perchance we may catch a glimpse of the 
Father's goodness written upon its silver 
lining ! Is it not a comfort to you to know 
that it is not a work of your own hands 
that is crumbling at your feet ; and that 
it was beyond your power to stay the 
tide which has seemingly engulfed you, 
sweeping away your all? And yet it is 
not all gone, my husband, have you not 
me and little Bessie and baby left to love 
and live for?" 

"Oh, yes, for which, God knows, I am 
thankful ! But how can I care for you, 

when every dollar has been swept from 
my grasp?" 

"Have we not strong hearts and wil- 
ling hands, dear Harry? We must not 
falter by the wayside— let us work to- 

"You, Kittie, who was reared in such 
wealth and luxury? You work to help 
gain a livelihood, with a husband strong 
and capable? God forbid! Oh, no, no!" 
and again he bowed his head and groaned 

"You do not know me, dear Harry, if 
you think I would falter in any duty in 
life's pathway. It is praiseworthy to 
labor when our own circumstances de- 
mand it. It we accept the mission our 
Heavenly Father giveth, performing 
cheerfully its every duty, we shall, in 
His own blessed time, receive as our re- 
ward a crown sparkling with many jew- 
els ! Then oh, do not, for your great 
hope of heaven and your love for wife 
and children, let this blow, however 
heavy it may rest upon you, crush out 
all that is good and noble ! Rise up, my 
husband," she said, tenderly lifting his 
head from its resting place and carefully 
smoothing out the wrinkles from his 
troubled brow, "rise up, dear Harry, and 
promise me that you will be brave and 
meet it manfully !" 

Brave and inaufullj r ! How those words 
thrilled his very being! Like a shock 
from an electric battery, they sent the 
blood whirling through his veins — every 
nerve dancing with new life, while his 
lips gathered ud the cherries which had 
fallen off, and his eyes grew bright and 
sparkling again. 

"You have saved me, precious wife!" 
he answered, springing up from his seat 
and clasping her to his bosom, "those 
were the words of my beautiful mother 
on my wedding day ! I had forgotten 
my sacred promise to her — I will renew 
it to you, my own dear Kittie ! I can see 
it all, now — I have passed by the lovely 
morning with its happy sunshine, and 
now the clouds have lowered and the de- 
structive rains are upon me! Yet I will 
not forget that I am a man, a husband 
and a father, bravely struggling to stem 
the tide of adversity, trusting if I am but 
faithful in answering the Master's cull, 



that He will eventually bring me out 
into the happy sunshine again, hanging 
in His heaven of love a bright rainbow 
of promise ! M 

"God bless you, my own Harry ! My 
cup runneth over with joy 1 This hour 
let us consecrate ourselves anew to the 
work of the Master, promising our hearts 
to be faithful workers in the vineyard 
wherein He hath placed us !" 

A wealthy uncle, in a distant Southern 
State, hearing of Harry's misfortune, 
immediately wrote him, inviting him- 
self and family to share the bounties of 
his own luxurious home. Somewhat ad- 
vanced in years, he had often felt the 
need of a younger hand to help turn the 
great wheels of his extensive business — 
an active, energetic mind to alleviate, in 
a measure, his burden of thought ; while 
his plantation home (he having led a 
bachelor life) needed the loving influence 
of woman to brighten up and sweeten its 
languishing atmosphere — the marks of 
her deft fingers upon its pertainings. 
that they might become more home-like 
and attractive. 

Fully confident that the ability, 
strength of character and sound judg- 
ment of his nephew would meet every 
demand of the position, he had more than 
once made the proposition, assuring him 
that he should share his .property like 
an own son. But Harry always answered 
nim with true manly dignity : 

"Thanks, dear uncle; yet, much as I 
love you and appreciate the kind inten- 
tions of your offer, I cannot accept it. I 
should feel that I was but a pauper liv- 
ing in high life ! I had rather make my 
own mark in the world, and then, if 
I win- the laurels I now so much 
covet, their beauty will not be dimmed 
by the thought that older and more ex- 
perienced hands hung them for me — but 
I can accept them with becoming pride 
as the merit of my own untiring exer- 

Lest the same old will-power of self- 
reliance might still influence and keep 
from him his nephew, he had very 
thoughtfully and kindly added a post- 
script to his letter, saying : 

"Dear Harry, do not let a foolish 

whim of dependence keep you from me. 
I so much need you ! My business mat- 
ters have become somewhat entangled 
by my own unavoidable neglect, and it 
needs a young and careful hand to disen- 
gage the matted threads and straighten 
them out again. To you I can confident- 
ly trust the work, which will relieve me 
of great anxiety and thought; while 
Kittie's care over the servants and house- 
hold duties— her happy voice and cheer- 
ful smiles — the bird-like chirpings of the 
little ones, will not only add a charm to 
the home but a joy to the heart of 

Your Bachelor Uncle." 

At first, Harry Lettredge felt that he 
could not accept the invitation, but when 
he came to consider it more fully and to 
realize that a duty lay hidden within its 
acceptance, then he cheerfully decided, 
subsequently moving hither with his 

For a while they were very happy in 
their new home in the sunny South. 
Kittie, by her own skillful hands and 
judicious management of the servants, 
soon transformed the somewhat neglected 
mansion into one of much beauty and 
many pleasing attractions. The children 
became pets for the plantation hands, 
who considered it an honor of high de- 
gree to tolt the little ones over the 
grounds and entertain them with their 
plantation melodies; while Harry became 
more cheerful and contented when he 
saw the pleasure it gave his uncle to 
have them with him. 

But by and by, after his business mat- 
ters were straightened and in fine work- 
ing order, and he began to feel that his 
presence was no longer a necessity, then 
his ambitious spirit began to grow rest- 
less, and he sighed for an independent 
life in fields of activity and labor. 

It was a great disappointment to his 
uncle when he made his proposition to 
leave him; yet, feeling that true and no- 
ble motives actuated his nephew, he re- 
luctantly consented, granting him such 
assistance as was needed to further his 

Having an opportunity to associate 
himself with a man of fine business abil- 
ity in the wool exportation business, he 
gladly accepted, returned East, and took 



an office in our own proud Boston, while 
his partner remained among the wool- 
growers of Texas. Here, by his strict 
attention to business, his moral charac- 
ter and gentlemanly bearing, he is slow- 
ly, but surely, working his steps up the 
promising ladder of fortune and fame — 
for, not only his business capabilities 
have been strengthened and stimulated 
by his bitter experience, but his mental 
powers have been aroused to greater ac- 
tivity, and to-day the minds of the lite- 
rary world are feastiug on his high-toned 

Some twelve miles out of Boston, in 
one of her adjoining cities, stands a neat 
French-roofed cottage — nothing in its 
pretensions to wealth or display — yet 
your eye rests with pleasure upon its 
pleasant surroundings, and, as in imagi- 
nation you step within, an air of sweet 
contentment greets your senses as you 
cross the threshold, while you feast your 
admiration upon the charming aspect 
Which everywhere meets your gaziug 
eyes. Light feet keep step to the tune 
of a happy voice, and busy fingers send 
back their answering echoes to the 
promptings of a loving heart ! 

I need not tell you that this is the cozy 
little home of Harry Lettredge, for you 
can but recognize the lovely face of Kit- 
tie Mordant, as the little housewife turns 
to answer your morning greeting — some- 
what changed by the maternal cares 
which have left their traces, yet more 
beautiful and charming by the womanly 
graces she has gathered from the hands 

of experience — the same sweet smile nest- 
les upon her lips — the same loving 
glances steal from her clear blue eye ! 

A happy home indeed ! for while Harry 
is busy with the business world, his 
lovely wife is reigning supreme iu her 
little world at home — for aside from a 
scrub-woman who comes to perform the 
heavier work, she masters her own 
domestic duties — her own delicate hands 
preparing her husband's early breakfast, 
and at evening hour, when he returns 
weary and faint from the over-exertions 
of the d-ay, cheerful smiles revive his 
languishing spirits, and dainties of her 
own manufacturing prove a resting balm 
to his inner man. Care-filled moments 
leave no room for vain regrets— there- 
fore the past with its dark shadows is 
swallowed up in the happy sunshine of 
the present and the bright bow of prom- 
ise which spans their future sky! 

In their home there is a vacant little 
chair, for baby has been called to join the 
little immortals beyond the Pearly Gates ! 
It was a heavy cross for their young 
hearts to bear, but they bowed in loving 
submission, for the same faith which 
sustained them in their minor afflictions 
still upheld them in their hour of great 
need — the same loving hand still led 
them! Sweetest memories cling round 
the little relic, for they have twined it 
with garlands of never-fading flowers; 
while in ,the Heavenly Mansion they fan- 
cy they can behold the little jewel which 
once filled it, and hear a tiny voice cal- 

'•Baby's waiting— come up Higher !" 



Church organizations are according to 
the good Book, which those that bear 
the Christian name profess to take as 
their guide. The modern division of 

illations, is an evil, yet in the great har- 
mony that is now being cultivated be- 
tween them, the evil is much removed. 
The names that denominations bear are 

Christians into different sects, or deuom- not Scriptural. Some of them were given 



by their enemies in derision, as Puritans, 
Quakers, Shakers, Methodists, etc., yet 
in the imperfect state of the world, as 
all cannot see things alike, there can be 
no great harm in the use of different de- 
nominational names. If the world shall 
have a millenium, or a much better con- 
dition than what has yet been, there may 
then be different denominations, but less 
importance will be attached to their names 
than now. Like brothers and sisters in a 
well regulated family, although known 
by different names, they will live with 
great strength and purity, and the name 
of the Father and Son will be "high over 

The Congregationalists are older, as a 
people, than most of the other sects. In 
the last part of the sixteenth century, or 
about three hundred years ago, there 
were religionists, called Brownists, being 
followers of Robert Brown. This man 
was educated at Cambridge, in England. 
lived in Norwich, and protested against 
the ceremonies of the established church. 
Much from these people came those call- 
ed Independents. And from these came 
those called Puritans. And from these 
last came the Congregationalists. A dis- 
tinguished Puritan minister was Rev. 
John Robinson, born in Great Britain, in 
1575, educated at Cambridge, and in 1602 
became pastor of a congregation in Nor- 
folk in the north of England. Not en- 
joying their rights unmolested, in 1608 
they moved to Leyden, in Holland, and 
rom that place a portion emigrated to 
'New England and commenced settle- 
ments in 1620. Mr. Robinson remained, 
but intended to come over. This was 
prevented by his sudden death in 1625. 
He was a learned, able and pious man, of 
quick wit, great penetration, and great 
candor. The early settlers of Plymouth 
and vicinity were known as Puritans, but 
in process of time their descendants took 
the name Congregationalists. 

One of the cardinal principles of this 
denomination is the independence of the 
churches, in that each church is a com- 
plete body in itself, having sufficient 
power to act and perform everything re- 
lating to religious government, and the 
regulation of its affairs, and is in no res- 
pect subject or accountable to other 

churches, or anything in the form of Sy- 
nods, Presbyteries, Bishops, and the like. 
Each church has the pOM'er to choose its 
own ministers, and to dismiss them when 
it sees fit. Yet in these the advice of 
Councils are to assist. But as a rule, 
Councils, especially in difficulties, are ad- 
visory bodies. In the respects herein 
named, the Baptists, Free Will Baptists, 
and some others, have the same views of 
church government and church independ- 
ence as the Congregationalists. In doc- 
trine the Congregationalists are Trinita- 
rians. They were formerly Calvinists, 
latterly not so much so. Baptism was, 
until lately, by sprinkling; latterly im- 
mersion is allowed to be a proper mode, 
in case that is chosen. 

It is worthy of being here remarked, 
that the persecutions carried on against 
the Puritans in England in the reigns of 
Elizabeth and the Princes of the unfor- 
tuuate House of Stuart, seemed to lay 
the foundation of what is now our vast 
Republic in this western world. Hither, 
into a wilderness, they came, established 
a free religion, and free political and ed- 
ucational institutions. Perhaps it is not 
too much to say, that our free govern- 
ment grew out of their independence of 
church government. In President Jef- 
ferson's time there was a church, Congre- 
gational in form, near him, in Virginia, 
and he said it was, as to its government, 
in almost exact accord with a republican 

In New Hampshire, the Congregation- 
alists are the oldest, and have all along 
been the largest Christian denomination 
in the State. The two towns first settled 
in what is now the State, were Ports- 
mouth and Dover, in 1623. But Congre- 
gationalists were not coeval with these 
settlements, as those who then came did 
not come for liberty of conscience, nor 
for religious purposes, but to gain a live- 
lihood by fishing, and perhaps a few oth- 
er branches of business. They were not, 
however, unmindful of moral instruction 
and religious obligations. At Dover they 
built a meeting-house, which was the 
first erected in the State. The settlement 
was at Dover Neck, four or five miles 
from the compact part of the city, as ( it 
now is. It was afterwards surrounded 



by entrenchments and flankers, the re- 
mains of which we saw a few years ago, 
and probably they are still seen. These 
were for a defence from Indian attacks. 
We have never been able to learn what 
kind of a building this was. nor its di- 
mensions. Whether it was of logs or a 
framed structure we do not know. It 
was standing in a ruinous condition iu 
1720, eighty-seven years after its erection. 
But about twenty years previous to that 
date, the second house for the Society, 
(Congregationalists), had been erected 
at " Pine Hill," on land now a part of 
"'Pine Hill Cemetery." It was nearly 
north of the tomb of the Gushing family. 
The church was organized in 1638. 
Whether it was called Congregational or 
not, it was so to all intents, and is now 
23$ years old. There is but one older in 
the State which will now be noticed. 
Hampton was settled in 163S. A church 
had been organized in 1S35 or 1S36, in 
Lynn, Mass., separate from the one al- 
ready there. Some conflict existed be- 
tween the two, and this second church, 
with its minister and some other persons, 
came to Hampton, as the first settlers. 
The minister was Rev. Stephen Bachiler. 
(We preserve his spelling of the name.) 
He was in some sense the father of the 
town, and was the progenitor of a very 
large part of the great Bachelder family 
in our country. Mr. Bachiler continued 
pastor of the Hampton church about three 
years, afterwards returned to his native 
country, England, and died at the age of 
about one hundred years. There were 
some shades over his moral character 
while at Hampton, for which it is trusted 
he made amends by penitence and a good 
life. His immediate successors in the pas- 
torate at Hampton were Revs. Timothy 
Dalton, a native of England. John Wheel- 
wright, a native of Salely, England, and 
Seaborn Cotton, born at sea while his pa- 
rents were on the passage to this country. 
The meeting-house at Hampton was 
built of logs, and was not far from where 
the Academy stands. The log meeting- 
house was not, however, occupied very 
long, as not man}*- years later, a larger 
house was erected. A third, quite large, 
was built in 1675. After 17lb, the fourth 
house of worship was erected. This had 

two tiers of galleries, one above the oth- 
er. All these church buildings stood 
near the place of the Academy. About 
1740, the celebrated Whitetield visited 
the place, and preached to a very large 
assembly in the open air near the church, 
as that would not hold the people. 

The next church organization was at 
Exeter. The place was settled in 1638, 
the same year as Hampton, and a church 
was formed, consisting of eight members. 
The origin of this settlement and of this 
church will be given in brief. Rev. John 
Wheelwright came over from England to 
Boston in 1636, where he and his wife 
united with the church, which was then 
the only one in that place. In December 
following, on the occasion of a East, he 
preached a sermon that gave oftence, as 
it was thought to reflect on ministers and 
civil officers, and for this he was banish- 
ed from the Colony. In 1638, with a few 
of his friends and adherents, he came to 
what is now Exeter, and commenced set- 
tlements. We have the authority of the 
late Judge and Governor, Jeremiah Smith 
of Exeter, for saying the party which 
first came were about four days on the 
way, not to say road, for the most part 
of the whole region between Boston and 
Exeter was an unsettled wilderness. Mr. 
Wheelwright had purchased lands of the 
Indians, and Squamscot Falls, where 
there have been mills perhaps ever since, 
and near the present Factory, were first 
settled. The particular seat of the first 
operations was in the northwest part of 
the present compact part of the town, 
and not far from the present jail. There, 
near or on a small elevation now called 
''Meeting House Hill," their first house 
of worship was built. Its dimensions 
were twenty feet square. Afterwards 
there was an addition of what was called 
a 4 'lean-to." 

After Mr. Wheelwright had preached 
about three years, the Xew Hampshire 
Colony was united in government to Mas- 
sachusetts, which brought the pastor of 
this church under the jurisdiction of that 
Colony, from which he had been ban- 
ished; so he left, and went to Wells, Me., 
from which place he afterwards came to 
Hampton, as has been named, the sen- 
tence of his banishment having been re- 




moved. The church at Exeter, left with- 
out a minister, lost its visibility. In 1G50 
Rev. Samuel Dudley came to that place 
and a new church was formed. This is 
now what is called the First Church in 
Exeter, and is 226 years old. 

Portsmouth has been named as one of 
two towns early settled, but a Congrega- 
tional church was not formed so early as 
the others in the three towns named. A 
chapel and parsonage were provided, but 
we have not the date, though it was be- 
fore 1G40. About that time some effort 
was made for preaching a portion of the 
time. In 1657 a better place of worship 
was built by the town. It stood in what 
is now the south part of the compact por- 
tion of the city. In 165S Rev. Joshua 
Moody began to preach, but a church 
was not organized till thirteen years later, 
that is, in 1671. 

Thus it is seen that forty-eight years, 
nearly half a century, passed, from the 
first settlement of what is now our State, 
and there were four towns, and each had 

a Congregational church. And it should 
be said, no church of any other denomi- 
national name existed in the Colony, save 
an Episcopal Society in Portsmouth, 
which had a church building and a meet- 
ing as early as 1G3S. 

The fifth township formed was New- 
Castle, formerly a part of Portsmouth, 
in 1C03. The early records of the church 
have been lost, so the date of the organ- 
ization cannot be given. Probably it was 
as soon as the town was chartered, if not 
before, as there was a house of worship, 
which was taken down in 1706, and a 
new one erected, which was finished with 
much elegance. 

The sixth town incorporated was Kings- 
ton, and a church organized in 1725. 

This brings us down two years beyond 
the first century of operations in what is 
now New .Hampshire. It was in some 
respects the day of small things in eccle- 
siastical and civil affairs. Soon after set- 
tlements and churches increased more 



The early inhabitants of New Hamp- 
shire gave to places in which their lot 
was cast the names of cities and towns 
in the mother country. This is more ob- 
vious in that portion of the State first 
settled by immigration — the lower sec- 
tions of Rockingham and Strafford — 
where nearly all the towns are only the 
duplicates, in name, of cities and towns 
in England. Thus we find Portsmouth, 
Brentwood, Rye, Hampton, Kingston, 
Exeter, Newmarket Epping. Hainpstead, 
Gosport, Durham, Newcastle, Madbury, 
Kensington, Newington, Seabrook, Not- 
tingham, Northwood, Plaistow, San- 
down, Dover and Rochester. Elsewhere 
in our State there is no lack of English 
names, but they are not found so plenti- 

fully as in that portion above spoken of. 
This list embraces the towns of Alton, Al- 
stead, Andover, Auburn, Chester, Barns- 
tead, Bath, Bedford, Bow, Bradford, 
Bristol, Cambridge, Canterbury, Chiches- 
ter, Cornish, Claremont, Chatham, Ep- 
som, Errol, Marlow, Milford, Newport, 
Northumberland, Lancaster, Tamworth, 
AVakefield, Westmoreland, Plymouth, 
Pembroke and Surry. 


In not a few instances the counties and 
towns of New Hampshire derived their 
names from persons. Until the year 
1801 our State consisted of live counties, 
namely: Rockingham, Strafford, Hills- 
borough, Cheshire and Grafton. Proba- 



bly all these, except Cheshire, were 
named for distinguished Englishmen. 
Lord Rockingham was a member of the 
Cabinet of George the Third ; was a man 
of unostentatious integrity, and a safe 
counsellor, although neither an orator 
nor a statesman, in the proper significa- 
tion of the word. It was he through 
whose influence the stamp act was re- 
pealed. Thomas Wentworth Stratford, 
at the commencement of the reign of 
Charles the First, and during the arbi- 
trary administration of Buckingham, 
stood up for the rights of the people, and 
sustained imprisonment, deprivation of 
his offices and exclusion from Parlia- 
ment. He was by the king abondoned 
to his fate, and died upon the scaffold 
(beheaded) May 12, 1641. The name of 
the Duke of Grafton occurs with much 
frequency in the celebrated Letters of 
Junius, which made a great stir in Eng- 
land about the year 1770, of which Sir 
Philip Francis was probably the author. 
The presumption may be reasonably 
entertained that this nobleman was in 
the minds of members of the Legislature 
when the County of Grafton was formed. 
The County of Cheshire has its name- 
sake in England, which is a county cele- 
brated for its cheese. The word Coos is 
thought to be of Indian origin, although 
there is an island of that name in the 
Grecian Archipelago. Since the incor- 
poration of the County of Coos iu the 
year 1S01, four others have been consti- 
tuted, namely: Merrimack, Sullivan, 
Belknap and Carroll. No intelligent in- 
habitant of the State need be at a loss for 
the reasons which induced the Legisla- 
ture to bestow the names Merrimack, 
Sullivan, Belknap and Carroll upon these 
territorial divisions of New Hampshire. 


The towns are many which were named 
for persons ; some, like Gilmanton and 
Sanbornton, because many of the first 
settlers were Gilmans and Sanborns. 
The following are of this class : Atkin- 
son, Fremont, Newton, Windham, Mil- 
ton, Rollinsford, Strafford, Centre Har- 
bor. Tilton, Bartlett, Conway, Madison, 
Moultonborough, Sandwich, Tuftonbor- 
ough, Wolfeborough, Allenstown, Frank- 
lin, Webster, Wiiinot, Amherst, Goffs- 

town, Hancock, Mason, Temple, Weare, 
Jaffrey, Jackson, Langdon, Monroe, 
Marlborough, Nelson, ITarrisville, Wal- 
pole, Winchester. Washington, Littleton, 
Thornton, Warren, Wentworth, Jeffer- 
son, Carroll, Randolph, Stark and Strat- 
ford. Boscawen and Hawke are names 
borne by admirals in the English navy, 
we think during the reign of George the 
Third. In 1S36 Hawke was changed to 
Danville — the inhabitants supposing their 
town bore the name of a bird, instead of 
an admiral of the blue or the red. 


In a few instances, and but a few, the 
Legislature changed the names of towns 
for political considerations. Thus Ad- 
ams, like Mount Adams, named for John 
Adams, second President of the United 
States, was changed in 1829 to Jackson, 
for Gen. Andrew Jackson, then in the 
first year of his Presidency. From 
its incorporation in 1764, to 1S41, Ben- 
ton, in Grafton County, was known as 
Coventry. Thomas H. Benton, thirty 
years a Senator from Missouri, was a 
favorite in the Democratic party at that 
time. New Chester was changed to Hill 
in 1S56, in compliment to Hon. Isaac 
Hill, then Governor of New Hampshire. 


Rockingham County. — Auburn, 1S45; 
South Newmarket, 1849. 

Strafford.— Strafford, 1820 ; EoLlmsford, 

Belknap— Laconia, 1855 ; Belmont, 1859. 
Tilton, I860. 

Carroll. — Freedom, 1831 ; Madison, 

Jlerrimack. — Hooksett, 1822; Franklin, 
1828 ; Webster, 1860. 

Hillsborough* — Bennington and Green- 
ville. . 

Cheshire. — Harris ville. 

Grafton. — Ashland, Bristol, Monroe, 
Waterville, Eastou and Livermore. 

Coos. — Berlin. Carroll, Clarksville, Er- 
rol. Gorham, Milan, Pittsburg, Randolph 
and Shelburne. 



The towns are many which do not re- 



tain the names given when their charters 
were granted. They are found by coun- 
ties as follows:- 

Rockingham. — Candia, Charmingfare ; 
Chester, Cheshire; Danville, Hawke; 
Fremont, Poplin; Londonderry, Nut- 
field; New Castle, Great Island. 

Strafford aiid Belknap.— -No changes. 

Carroll. — Albany, Burton ; Conway, 
Pigwaekett; Jackson, Adams; Ossipee, 
New Garden; Wakefield, East Town. 

Merrimack. — Andover, Emerisstown ; 
Boscawen, Coutoocook ; Bradford, New 
Bradford; Concord, Penacook and Eum- 
ford; Dimbarton, Stark's Town; Henni- 
ker, Number 6 ; Hill, New Chester ; Hop- 
kinton, New Hopkinton; Newbury, 
Fishersfield: New London, Dantzic; 
Salisbury, Baker's Town ; Sutton, Per- 
ry's Town; Warner, New Amesbury; 
Wilmot, Kearsarge. 

Hillsborough . — Amherst, Souhegan- 
West; Antrim, Society Land; Bedford, 
Souhegan-East ; Brookline, Raby ; Fran- 
eestown, New Boston Addition ; Hudson, 
Nottingham-West ; Litchfield, Brenton's 
Farm; Lyndeborough, Salem Canada; 
Milford, Mile Slip; New Ipswich, Ips- 
wich Canada; Sharon, Peterborough 
Slip; Weare, Hale's Town; Windsor, 
Campbell's Gore. 

Cheshire. — Alstead, Newtown; Dublin, 
Monadnock, No. 2; Fitzwilliam, Monad- 
nock, No. 4; Gilsum, Boyle ; Hinsdale, 
Fort Du turner; Janrey, Monadnock, 
No. 2; Keene, Upper xYshuelot; Marlbor- 
ough, Monadnock, No. 5 ; Nelson. Pack- 
ersiield; Eindge, Monadnock, No. 1; 
Stoddard, Limerick; Swanzey, Lower 
Ashuelot; Walpole, Bellows Town; 
Westmoreland, Great Meadow ; Winches- 
ter, Arlington* 

Sullivan. — Charlestown. No. 4 ; Lemp- 
ster, Dupplin; Springfield, Protect- 
worth; Sunapee, Saville; Washington, 

Grafton.— Benton, Coventry; Ells- 
worth, Trecothick; Enfield, Belham; 
Franeonia, Morristown ; Groton, Cocker- 
mouth ; Haverhill, Lower Cohos ; Lisbon, 
Concord; Littleton, Chiswick and Ap- 
thorp; Orange, Cardigan; Woodstock, 

Coos. — Berlin, Maynesborough ; Car- 
roll, Breton Woods ; Colebrook, Cole- 
burne; Columbia, Cockburne; Dalton, 
Apthorp; Gorham, Shelburue Addition; 
Jefferson, Dartmouth ; Lancaster, Upper 
Cohos; Milan, Paulsburg; Pittsburg, In- 
dian Stream; Randolph, Durand ; Stark, 
Percy; Stewartstown, Stewart. 


The streams and mountains of New 
Hampshire, the names of which are of 
Indian origin, are more numerous than 
the towns. Merrimack, Nashua and 
Sunapee are all which come within the 
latter class, while the hills, mountains 
and streams with Indian names are 
many, and distributed throughout the 
State. Some of these are Ossipee, Con- 
toocook, Soucook, Suncook, Saco, Mo- 
nadnock, Kearsarge, Coos, tocheco, Sun- 
apee, Unconoonock, Chocorua, Pemige- 
wassett, Mascomy, Massabesic, Amonoo- 
suck, Piscataquog, Souhegan, Andro- 
scoggin and others. Some of these are 
more euphonious than many of purely 
English origin, and are in no danger of 
being changed. 


These do not abound in our State. We 
include in our list only Antrim, Derry, 
Dublin, Dunbartou and Londonderry. 
The town of Orange was incorporated as 
Cardigan, and the change was no im- 
provement. Its mountain is still known 
as Cardigan, a name, we think, of Scotch 





In the portrayal of a scene so greatly 
at variance with the clatter and din 
which ushers in the new-born day in our 
own country, I must draw to a certain 
extent upon your imagination; for no 
true northerner can ever fully under- 
stand or appreciate the southern idea of 
comfort, which is as far removed from 
laziness a-s are the inhabitants of their re- 
spective Americas. I may be pardoned, 
also, for remarking that wealth, position 
and honorable mention is the good which 
the ambitious citizen of the north strives 
to gain, while he whose home is in the 
land of the southern cross is content to 
live as his fathers have done before him, 
and his happy nature and warm heart 
shine forth resplendent in every linea- 
ment of his genial face. 

Leave, if you please, your wealth, 
your position and honorable mention, 
and come with me to Brazil, to Pernam- 
buco, for I have chosen "the city of 
bridges" for our morning pilgrimage. 
See how beautiful she rests upon the 
bosom of the now placid sea; scarcely 
above ifs surface are her shores lifted, 
but a thoughtful Providence has thrown 
a coral arm around her, and, thanks to 
its protection, no harm shall come to the 
nestling children lying side by side, safe- 
ly anchored in the blessed haven. The 
deep-toned bell at Santo Antonio slow- 
ly tolls its four beats, and still the 
cool mist hangs in heavy clouds along 
the beach. Proud OJinda rises in all the 
majesty of her former grandeur, and, but 
for the white tablets that mark the graves 
of the Count of Nassau's contemporaries, 
we might even now point to her as the 
capital of the equatorial colonies of Port- 
ugal. The large white building near the 
summit was once occupied by the law 
school with its 300 students. They have 
long since passed away, but buildings in 
Brazil are made of enduring material, 

and last for centuries. I fancy that the 
former inhabitants look down— if it be 
possible— with intense gratification upon 
these lasting monuments of the scorn and 
derision with which they ever treated 
the denizens of the lower town (Pernam- 
buco). The first puff of the ocean breeze 
dispels the misty curtaiu, and reveals in 
succession Eeceife, Santo Antonio and 
Boa Vista— the three districts which 
form the city. A large portion of the 
people at Eeceife obtain a livelihood, 
either directy or indirectly, from the 
"briny deep," consequently it is here we 
see the first signs of awakening life. 
Fishermen emerge from every conceiva- 
ble nook and corner affording the slight- 
est apology of a shelter, roll up their 
mats— which serve as beds— and proceed 
to put themselves through a course of 
gymnastics. After a due amount of 
stretching and yawning, the ^catama- 
rans" (rafts of cork-wood logs, with a 
lateen sail) are launched, and with much 
jabbering and scolding paddled out- 
side the reef, where the now fresh wind 
fills the sail and wafts them with the 
speed of a race horse to the fishing 
grounds. Anon they will return laden 
with those deep-sea beauties which never 
fail to ser.d a thrill of delight through 
the Brazilian heart. 

Five o'clock, and the first flush of 
morning casts its faint illumination 
across the blue Atlantic. Xow the 
milkman comes to make his morning 
rounds, not with a rattling cart, but with 
the cow- herself, and. stopping to milk 
the desired quantity, he cracks a joke 
with the housemaid, or extols the beauty 
of the calf tied to its mother's tail. The 
mimgao woman is abroad, and it is high 
time, for already a group of negroes — 
who have passed the night on the steps 
of a neighboring church — are getting im- 
patient for their morning porridge. A 



fat negress follows with a tempting ar- 
ray of the numerous varieties of bana- 
nas, which she cries in a lusty tone. 
Yonder comes a giggling mulatto girl 
with a pyramid of red and white capi 
perched upon her head. There is very 
little in quantity to be obtained from 
this fruit, but the few drops that escape 
upon pressure impart to a glass of water 
a; most agreeable flavor. In the balcony 
opposite, a senorita is peering out from 
behind the Venetian blind, watching and 
listening. She has not long to wait, 
however, for a lithesome negro girl, bal- 
ancing upon her head a tray literally 
loaded with gorgeous flowers, turns the 
corner — casts an expectant glance at my 
lady, and in a twinkling stands before 
her, holding out the floral display for in- 

All good Catholics must attend mass 
at least once a week, and at what other 
time than in the cool morning, ere the 
cares of the day have intruded upon the 
quiet mind, can they give thanks and 
pray for continued blessings? Custom 
insists that the "dear girls" walk in front 
of papa and mamma, and although u min- 
ha moca" does not like the restraint, she 
is quite safe; for what black-moustached 
Don would dare to wink at her, knowing 
that the stern eye of pater familias would 
instantly detect any attempt at conniv- 
ance? It matters not to which church 
they go. there being but one religious be- 
lief in Brazil, and the pews are carried 
by the servant, in the shape of cushions 
upon which to kneel. All is hushed with- 
in the sacred edifice, the exhalations 
from burning incense rise to the gilded 
dome in curly wreaths, a hundred lighted 
candles illuminate the altar, and before a 
figure of the Virgin — resplendent in gold 
and silver spangles — are two golden can- 
dlesticks containing wax candles, which 
are kept continually burning. Along the 
walls, on each side, are statues of the pat- 
ron and other saints, while the walls 
themselves are lined for eight feet up 
with blue and white Dutch tiles, repre- 
senting landscapes and mythological 
characters. Columns, niches, altars and 
carved work are white and gold, contrast- 
ing prettily with the blue pagan scenery 
on the tiles. The curtain at the door 

parts to admit alike the master and the 
slave, and falls noiselessly back. Pen- 
sive maidens dreamily count their beads, 
while at the font stands an aged sinner 
muttering a prayer and piously crossing 
himself. The silence of this impressive 
scene is only broken by the voice of the 
priest, proclaiming: "Orate, fratres;" 
and the devotion with which the kueel- 
ing multitude respond to his reverential 
call for prayer gives unmistakable evi- 
dence of the sincerity of their hearts. 

Now we will go to the palace gardens, 
for morning and evening they are open 
to the public, and highly do the people 
appreciate this invitation to the royal 
bowery. And they should, for a more 
delightful spot does not exist in the em- 
pire. Rare and beautiful flowers are 
growing in wild profusion along the 
walks, climbing over hedges, and even 
mounting high in the branches of the 
tamarind. The four-angle cactus is per- 
haps the ugliest specimen in the floral 
kingdom, but its large white blossom is 
rich in all that the stock is so poor. The 
pin-pillow, winged and snake cactus are 
all beautiful, and inspired Mrs. Sigour- 
ney to write : 

"Who hung thy beauty on such a rugged 
stock ?" etc. 

Lines of the corrol tree, with its flowers 
of the deepest crimson, extend from the 
main gate to the palace, and climbing 
plants of every hue hang in festoons from 
branch to branch. Under the shelter of 
a fan-like palm, and scarcely visible for 
its density, are the acacias and sensitive- 
plants ; the one with airy foliage trem- 
bling at every movement of its elegant 
golden blossoms, the other timidly 
shrinking from the slightest touch and 
vainly striving to hide its pink flowerets 
from the morning sun. Near the palace 
is a small square, surrounded and nearly 
concealed by a circle of mango trees in- 
terspersed with Brazil Han thorn. Here, 
when the executive pleases, the govern- 
ment band furnishes music for the vis- 
itors, and upon occasions the president 
(of the province) occupies his private 
pavilion. On these "presidential even- 
ings 1 ' the elite congregate in large num- 
bers to pay their respects ; for it is con- 
sidered quite the thing to be at least ac- 

quainted with his excelleucy. Emerging 
at the western gate, we come upon a 
string of mules guided by a mulatto, who 
is continually shouting — not the kind 
words suggested by Mr. Bergh — but 
"ho! devil, " u go aloug, fool," and other 
expressions equally inelegant. In view, 
however, of the delicious edibles with 
which they keep the market supplied, 
their mode of driving is readily excused. 
The panniers— one upon each side of the 
animal— are filled with oranges, plan- 
tains, araca, pinna, aud, perchance, 
boxes of guava jelly, one of the greatest 
delicacies of the country. But only oue, 
for the list is long and includes Mother 
Benta's cakes, doce de araca, egg- 
threads, sighs, angels' hair, and baba de 
moca (the latter could be translated, but 
it does not sound as well in English) 
and — I came near forgetting it — '"heaven- 
ly bacon," a light pudding composed 
of almond-paste, eggs, sugar, butter and 
flour. These muleteers are a very pecu- 
liar sort of people. Living, as they do. 
in isolated places among the mountains 
or on the bank of some river, they are 
imbued with strange notions. Their ev- 
eryday affairs are arranged in strict ac- 
cordance with the superstitions cherished, 
while all calamities are attributed to 
some mysterious agency. Each hamlet 
has its traditions and legends, the truth 
of which they never question, and their 
weird tales of ancient people and places 
strikingly illustrate the extravagances 
of which the ignorant mind is capable. 
The monotony of their lives is only va- 
ried by the weekly or monthly visits to 
town, where they remain all day, drink- 
ing wine and telling stories — in every 
sense of the word — at the corner grocery. 
The journey home through dark and 
almost trackless forests would be dreary 
enough were it not for the vampire bats, 
whose persistent efforts to taste mule 
blood require constant activity on the 
part of the drivers. 

Some of the finest residences in Per- 
nambuco grace the environs of Boa 
Vista, homes of the merchant princes 
and physicians of good repute, the dia- 
mond miner, and, possibly, a former 
slave dealer. Their day is begun, as it 
should be, luxuriously. At six we shall 


find them on the verandah in gown and 

slippers quietly sipping a cup of black 
coffee as they read the morning news. 
Now, joined by wife and children, they 
saunter through the well-kept grounds, 
where nature, in all her loveliness, 
spreads out before them in that wild 
abandon so characteristic of tropical 
scenery. Myriads of happy songsters 
merrily flit from branch to branch, send- 
ing the dew in crystal showers to startle 
the modest chameleon and cause his coat 
to turn from its roseate hue to emerald 
green. Screaming paroquets f^ about 
in great confusion at the near approach 
of the tyrant blue macaw, and the timid 
musk monkey pauses in his morning 
meal to view with ill-concealed surprise 
the disturbers of his peace. Down in the 
glade, where the brook in graceful curves 
its course pursues, the cattle now their 
fast are breaking. At times they stop to 
chew the returning quid, and gaze, se- 
date and sober, at the white swans gayly 
sporting on the limpid stream. At every 
turn prolific nature exhibits some new 
and pleasing charm, some quiet, peace- 
ful scene to rest the eye and calm the 
soul. Can we wonder then that with 
day thus happily begun the man of 
physic cures his patient by his cheerful 
manner? Is it strange that politeness 
and good feeling enter even the must}' 
counting-house, when almost from God's 
own lips the lesson of ''peace on earth, 
good will toward men" is daily learned? 
The water carriers are by no means 
"early birds," but by seven o'clock we 
shall see them on their way to the foun- 
tain, where a little old man in a sentry- 
box receives the required penny a jar. 
Much wrangling — principally in the in- 
comprehensible jargon of the African 
tongue — occurs inside the railing, and 
many hands are raised in anger at real 
or fancied insults, but no one is harmed, 
which desirable state of circumstances is 
due to the participants not possessing 
courage according to their strength. 
Time is not money with the water vend- 
ers, and they waste many precious mo- 
ments—not to say hours — with a noncha- 
lance that is truly refreshing, in the 
street they adopt a rapid, swinging gate, 
and cry in a drawling voice : "Aqua de 


beber." Scarcely audible now, for the the details of some sanguinary crime, 

drays have "come to town" to join the As if to demonstrate to the world that 

busy throng now hurrying to and fro. the good fortune of mankind is chiefly 

Almost unheeded is the beggar's '"for attributable to their own diligence, the 

the love of God," although their appear- knife-grinder busily turns his flying 

ance bespeaks wretchedness and want, wheel and sings to "minha negra." Cof- 

The convict street-sweepers, whose clank- fee carriers are trotting along the 

ing chains their tale of woe unfold, file wharves; the rat tat tat of the patrol 

past in mournful silence, and soon the drum calls forth the drowsy guard ; the 

iron door will shut the sunshine from day has passed from childhood into 

out their lonely hearts, whose every youth, and our morning in the tropics is 

beat brings back to mind afresh over. 



Somewhere a story I have seen 
Of a goddess brave, or fairy queen. 
Who bade her suffering subjects bring 
Their trials, cares, and everything 
That burdened them with griefs or woes, 
And make exchauge, such as they chose. 
Then every one with glad acclaim 
Into the gracious presence came. 

All had their burdens. Each his own 
Adjudged the heaviest ever known ; 
And here the sick and suffering came, 
The hapless, blind, deformed and lame, 
The homeless maid and hopeless swain ; 
A weary, murmuring, endless train, 
To bring their griefs, whatever they were, 
And change them as they might prefer. 

A poor man laid his poorness down 
And took instead a recreant son, 
Whose father, searching all about, 
Selected for himself the gout. 
The gouty man chose a scolding wife, 
Whose tongue created endless strife. 
A homely woman changed her face 
For an invalid's softer mein and grace. 

A hump-back doffed his life-long shame 
For a deaf mute's straight and manly frame. 
A weary wife brought all her grief 
And took the hump-back for relief. 
A love-lorn maid laid down her woes 
And straight the cast-off husband chose. 


A billions man his liver swapped 

For a crazy head that near him dropped. 

All took their choice, and all believed 
Themselves from earthly woes relieved; 
Kor knew the yoke would gall the more 
That did not lit the neck which bore. 
The recreant son, with stronger will, 
"Wrought his new pareut endless ill; 
Till he besought, instead of strife. 
The poor man's lot and peaceful life. 

The man with gout, unused to pain, 
Implored his graceless son again; 
While he who had the scolding wife, 
"With joy took back the old gout life. 
The homely woman, with changed face, 
Entreated health though void of grace. 
The hump-back — speechless as a brute, 
For his old grief made ardent suit. 

With woes untold the love-lorn maid 
For freedom from her stern lord prayed ; 
And all that countless throng returned 
For their old life. For they had learned 
That of life's woes, all have their share, 
And that the burdens mortals bear 
Are fitted by a wise behest, 
And for each one his own is best. 


Back numbers of the Graxite Month- duties as pastor of the Congregational 

ly will be furnished to all who desire, Church at Poquonock, Conn., where he 

and subscriptions may commence with has recently been called. 

No. 1, from which they will be dated in 

all cases unless otherwise expressly or- The region of Sunapee Lake is coming 

dered by the subscriber. to be a popular summer resort. Quite a 

number of people from the cities are 

The second article upon the work of stopping in that vicinity this summer — 

the New Hampshire Antiquarian Society, more than ever before — and the prospect 

by the President, Rev. Silas Ketchum, now is that a large increase will be made 

which was to have appeared this month, from year to year, requiring extended 

has been unavoidably delayed, onaccount hoarding and hotel accommodations. A 

of the severe illness of that gentleman, more romantic locality certainly cannot 

but will undoubtedly be given in the next be found in this or any other State. But 

number. We are glad to learn that Mr. thirty miles from Concord, via the Con- 

Ketcbum is recovering from his illness, cord & Claremont Railroad, which skirts 

and hopes soon to enter actively upon his the shore of the Lake for several miles, 



it is readily accessible, and those who 
cannot make a longer stay can there pass 
a day or two to advantage. Those who 
have more time at their command, can 
profitably stop over for a time, either in 
going or coming, at Warner, and visit 
Kearsarge Mountain, to the summit of 
which there is now an excellent carriage 
road. This is one of the finest mount- 
ains in the State, and its summit affords 
a more extended prospect than any other 
in Xew England south of the White 
Mountain region. 

As this number of the Granite Month- 
ly goes to press the centennial celebra- 
tion of the battle of Bennington is in full 
progress. Hundreds — we may even say 
thousands — of the citizens of Xew Hamp- 
shire are on the ground, participating in 
the patriotic demonstration, including a 
large delegation of our citizen soldiery. 
As the Granite State was well represent- 
ed upon the same ground a hundred years 
ago — as the valorous deeds of her sons 
under their heroic leader, John Stark, 
then made the field of Bennington im- 
mortal—it is indeed most fitting that the 
State should be well represented upon 
this centennial occasion, and that a con- 
spicuous part in the exercises should be 
assigned to her representatives — a part 
which will be performed with honor, as 
. was the case upon the previous great oc- 

Our enterprise is receiving very general 
commendation from those of our people 
to whose notice it has been brought. The 
utility of a State Magazine seems to be 
recognized by a considerable portion of 
our leading citizens, though there are of 
course a variety of opinions as to the 
plan upon which it should be conducted, 
and the ground it should cover. It is our 
aim to meet, as far as may be, the aver- 
age demand, and in this we believe we 
have succeeded as well as could be ex- 
pected under the circumstances. While 
expressing our thanks for the encourage- 

ment and assistance already received, w 
would also suggest that it is in the power 
of our friends to do much toward making 
our enterprise a success. Contributions 
of historical, biographical, local or gen- 
eral interest, will be mo-t acceptable, 
while that substantial encouragement 
which takes the form of an increase in 
the subscription list will always be duly 
appreciated. In this connection we sug- 
gest that each subscriber to the Monthly 
call the attention of friends and neigh- 
bors, who are not subscribers, to the pub- 
lication, with a view to inducing them to 
become such. In this way great assist- 
ance can be rendered with very little ef- 

In the biographical sketch of Col. Hen- 
ry O. Kent with which this number of the 
Monthly is opened, in referring to his 
ancestry it might have been mentioned 
that the old family homestead in Xew- 
bury, settled by Col. Jacob Kent of the 
French and Revolutionary Wars, has 
always remained in the family, and is 
now owned by Capt. Clark Kent. Col. 
Jacob Kent, well known as a former U. 
S. Marshal of Vermont, formerly land- 
lord of the Coossuck House at Wells 
River, and prominent in social and po- 
litical affairs in that State, now resides 
with his brother Clark, on the old place. 

Gen. Loren Kent, who was Adjutant 
and Colonel of the Twenty-ninth Illinois 
Regiment, and distinguished himself at 
Pittsburg Landing and Mobile, was Pro- 
vost Marshal of Grant's Western army, 
was made Brigadier General, and died 
Collector of the port of Galveston, Texas, 
of yellow fever, in 1SG6, was a cousin of 
Col. Kent, a son of his father's brother 
Adrial Kent. He was born on Parker 
Hill, Lyman, but went west with his fa- 
ther when quite young. Another cousin, 
James S. Kent, son of John C. Kent, a 
native of Lyman Plain, (now Monroe), 
served in Berdan's regiment of Sharp- 
shooters, and was killed at Gettysburg. 




VOL. 1 


NO. 5, 


No man in New Hampshire, during 
the past twenty years, has been more 
prorniuently known in the politics of the 
State than he whose name appears above. 
One of the original organizers of the Re- 
publican party in the State, Mr. Rollin3 
has been oue of the most active, and, in 
fact, the leading manager of the party 
organization, down to the present time — 
commander-in-chief, as it were, of its 
forces in all the sharp contests with the 
opposing or Democratic party. A brief 
outline of the career of one who has been 
thus prominent in active politics, and 
who ha3 also attained high official dis- 
tinction, cannot fail to be of interest to 
men of all parties. 

The Rollins family is one of the oldest 
and most numerous in the State. In 
southeastern New Hampshire the Rol- 
lins name has been prominent in the his- 
tory of almost every town* Particularly 
is this the case in the region about Do- 
ver, from the seaboard to Lake Winni- 
piseogee. Most, if not all, the represen- 
tatives of the name in this region, and 
among them the subject of our sketch, 
are the descendants of Jame3 Rollins (or 
Rawlins, as the name was then and for a 

long time subsequently spelled, and is 
now by some branches of the family), 
who came to America in 1632, with the 
first settlers of Ipswich, Mass., and who, 
ten or twelve years afterward, located 
in that portion of old Dover known as 
'• Bloody Point," now embraced in -the 
town of Xewington, where he died about 
1690. From a history of the Rollins fam- 
ily — descendants of this James Rawlins — 
compiled by John R. Rolliu3 of Law- 
rence, we find that its representatives 
suffered their full share in the privations 
and sacrifices incident to the firm estab- 
lishment of the colony, and performed 
generous public service in the early In- 
dian and French wars and the great rev- 
olutionary contest. Ichabod, the eldest 
son of James Rawlins, and from whom 
Edward H. is a direct descendant, was 
waylaid and killed by a party of Indians, 
while on the way from Dover to Oyster 
River (now Durham), with one John 
Bunker, May 22, 1707. Thomas, the sec- 
ond son of James, who subsequently be- 
came a resident of Exeter, was a mem- 
ber of the famous ''dissolved Assembly** 
of 1653, who took up arms under Ed- 
ward Gove and endeavored to incite an 



insurrection against the tyrannical Cran- 
fielcl, then Royal Governor. This Ed- 
ward Gove, who, failing in his object, 
surrendered at the persuasion of his 
friends, was the only man in New Hamp- 
shire who ever received the sentence of 
death for high treason, which was pro- 
nounced by the renowned Maj. Waldron, 
Chief Justice of the special court com- 
missioned for the trial. In the bill pre- 
sented by the grand jury, Gove and eight 
others, including Thomas Rawlins, were 
presented for high treason, but we do 
not learn that any but Gove were tried ; 
certainly he was the only one sentenced, 
and he was subsequently pardoned and 
had his estates restored. 

Another of the family who fell a vic- 
tim to Indian malignity was Aaron Raw- 
lins, a son of Thomas above mentioned, 
who lived on a plantation at the lower 
falls of the Piscasick (now Newmarket), 
whose house was attacked by the Indians 
on the night of August 29, 1723, and he 
and his eldest daughter were killed, after 
a valiant defence. His wife and two 
younger children, a son and daugh- 
ter, were taken captive and carried to 
Canada. Mrs. Rawlins was redeemed 
after a few years. The son was adopted 
by the Indians and ever after lived with 
them, while the daughter married a 
French Canadian. 

There were from twenty-rive to thirty 
descendants of James Rawlins, of the 
fourth and fifth generation, engaged in 
active service in the patriot cause during 
the revolutionary war. Some of the more 
prominent of these were John Rollins of 
Newmarket, who served at Bunker Hill 
and throughout the war ; Joseph Rollins 
of Nobleboro, Me., wounded at Benning- 
ton, and present at the surrender of Bur- 
goyne; Jotham and Nicholas Rollins of 
Stratham, the former a Lieutenant at 
Bunker Hill, and the latter a Captain at 
Stillwater and Saratoga; and John Rol- 
lins of Rochester, who was in the disas- 
trous fight at Hubbardton. This John 
Rollins settled in Alton, was a promi- 
nent citizen, held a Colonel's commission 
in ti»e militia, and died in 18-47, aged 01 
years. We find the Roliinses prominent 
in the early history of Rochester. Ed- 
ward Rollins, of the thir.d generation 

from James, settled early in that town, 
where he built a large garrison house 
near the lower end of what is now the 
main street of Rochester village. He was 
a leading citizen and selectman. His son 
Edward was one of the founders and first 
members of the Methodist church in that 
place. Another son, Samuel, was a sol- 
dier in the Revolution and was present 
at the capture of Ticonderoga. 

Among the first settlers of that portion 
of Dover which subsequently became 
Somersworth was Jeremiah Rollins, the 
only son of Ichabod, heretofore men- 
tioned as slain by the Indians. He was 
one of the petitioners for the incorpora- 
tion of Somersworth as a separate par- 
ish. He died f a few years previous to the 
Revolution, leaving several daughters, 
but only one son, Ichabod Rollins, who 
became an active champion of the Revo- 
lutionary cause, was a member of the 
Conventions at Exeter iti April, May and 
December, 1775, and served as a member 
of the Committee appointed to prepare a 
plan of providing ways and means for 
furnishing troops, and also as a member 
of the Committee of supplies, the princi- 
pal labor upon which was performed by 
himself and Timothy Walker of Concord. 
He was a member of the Convention 
which resolved itself into an independent 
State government, Jan. 5, 1776, and 
served in the Legislature in October fol- 
lowing. He was the first Judge of Pro- 
bate under the new government, holding 
the office from 1776 to 1784. He was sub- 
sequently a member of the Executive 
Council, and died in 1S00. From this 
eminent citizen the town of Rollinsford, 
formed from the portion of Somersworth 
in which he resided, received its name. 
He stands midway in the direct line of 
descent from James Rawlins to Edward 
H. — the great grandfather of Edward H., 
and the great grandson of James. He 
had four sons, of whom James, the third, 
was the grandfather of Edward H. John 
Rollins, the eldest of the sons, was the 
grandfather of Hon. Daniel G. Rollins, a 
prominent citizen, who was Judge of 
Probate for the County of Strafford from 
1857 to 1866, and whose son, Edward 
Asbton Rollins, was Speaker of the 
N. H. House of Representatives in 1861 





and 18G2. Commissioner of Internal Rev- 
enue under President Johnson, and is 
now President of the Centennial Bank at 
Philadelphia, though still holding hi3 
residence in Somers worth. 

James Rollins, grandfather of Edward 
H., settled upon the farm in Rollinsford 
which has since remained the family 
homestead. He was the father of thir- 
teen children, seven sons and six daugh- 
ters. Of these Daniel Rollins, the eighth 
child, born May 30, 1797, who married 
Mary, eldest daughter of Ebenezer Plum- 
iner of Rollinsford, was the father of Ed- 
ward H. He succeeded to the home- 
stead, but taking the "Maine fever," 
which was for a time prevalent in this 
section, sold out, with a view to making 
his home in that State. He soon repent- 
ed his action, and, returning, repurchased 
that portion of the homestead lying east 
of the highway, and erected a dwelling 

opposite the old family mansion, where 
he lived a life of sturdy industry, rearing 
a family of six children, four sons and 
two daughters, and died Jan. 7, 1864. 

Edward H. Rollins was the eldest 
of the children. He was born Oct. 3, 
1S24, being now about fifty-three years 
of age. He lived at home, laboring upon 
the farm in the summer season, attend- 
ing the district school in winter, and get- 
ting an occasional term's attendance at 
the South Berwick Academy and Frank- 
lin Academy in Dover, until seventeen 
years of age, when he went to Concord 
and engaged as druggist's clerk in the 
well-known apothecary store of John Mo- 
Daniels. He retained his situation some 
three or four years, industriously apply- 
ing himself to the details of the business. 
He then went to Boston, where he was 
engaged in similar service until 1847, 
when, having thoroughly mastered the 



business, he returned to Concord and 
went into trade on his own account, soon 
building up a large and successful busi- 
ness. After the great fire in 1851, he 
bought the land and erected what is 
known as Rollins' Block, north of the 
Eagle Hotel, one of the stores being oc- 
cupied by his own business. Of this 
property he still retains the ownership. 

In politics Mr. Rollins was originally 
a Webster Whig, and acted with the 
Whig party upon becoming a voter. In 
the Presidential election of 1852, how- 
ever, like many other New Hampshire 
men who had never before acted with the 
Democracy, he cast his vote for the 
Pierce electoral ticket, and at the subse- 
quent March election he also supported 
Nathaniel B. Baker, the Democratic can- 
didate for Governor, for whom it may 
be said he entertained feelings of strong 
friendship and high personal regard. Up 
to this time Mr. Rollins had taken no ac- 
tive part in politics, and but for the 
sharp contest over the slavery question 
which soon developed, signalized by the 
repeal of the Missouri Compromise and 
the passage of the Kansas-Nebraska bill, 
he might, perhaps, have continued to 
this day voting with the Democracy in 
the elections, and quietly dispensing med- 
icines in the good city of Concord. 

Dissatisfied with the course of the Ad- 
ministration, and strongly opposed to 
the extension of slavery, or any meas- 
ures rendering its extension possible, 
(although, by the way, it appears from 
the family history that his ancestors in 
colonial times were slave-holders to 
some extent, even including the Hon. 
Ichabod Rollins of the Revolutionary 
era), he acted no farther with the Demo- 
cratic party, and upon the inception of 
the American, or so-called Know-No th- 
ing movement, in the winter of 1854-5, 
he entered into it, attracted somewhat, 
it may be, by its novelty, and also by the 
idea that it might be (as it proved) in- 
strumental in the defeat of the Democ- 

From this time Mr. Rollins was an ac- 
tive politician. He labored effectively in 
perfecting the new party organization, 
taking therein the liveliest interest. At 
the March election. he was chosen to the 

Legislature from Ward 4, and served ef- 
ficiently in that body as a member of the 
Judiciary Committee. The next year 
witnessed the fusion of the American or 
Know Nothing organization with the 
new Republican party, which object Mr. 
Rollins was largely instrumental in se- 
curing. The talent which he had al- 
ready developed, as a political organizer 
made his services eminently desirable as 
a campaign manager, and he was made 
Chairman of the first State Central Com- 
mittee of the Republican party, a posi- 
tion which he held continuously until his 
election to Congress in 1861, and in which, 
as the Democratic leaders well know, he 
exhibited a capacity for thorough organ- 
ization—a mastery of campaign work, in 
general and in detail, seldom equaled and 
certainly never surpassed. And here it 
may be said, as it is generally conceded 
by well informed men in both parties, 
that the Republican party owes more, for 
its repeated and almost continual success- 
es in the closely contested elections of 
this State, from 1856 to 1S77, to the la- 
bors of Mr. Rollins than those of any 
other man. 

Re-elected to the Legislature in March, 
1S56, Mr. Rollins was chosen Speaker of 
the House, ably discharging the labori- 
ous duties of the office, to which he was 
again elected the following year. 

Mr. Rollins was chairman of the New 
Hampshire delegation in the Republican 
National Convention at Chicago in 1860, 
having been chosen a delegate at large in 
the State Convention, with but a single 
vote iu opposition. In the close contest 
between the friends of Lincoln and Sew- 
ard in that Convention the New Hamp- 
shire delegation supported Lincoln from 
the first, and wa? strongly instrumental 
in securing his nomination. Here it may 
be said that Mr. Rollins had become (as 
he ever remained), an ardent admirer of 
Lincoln, and it was through his efforts 
that the services of the latter were se- 
cured upon the stump in this State dur- 
ing the previous winter in the series of 
memorable campaign speeches which won 
for him the sincere admiration, and se- 
cured him the personal support of the 
New Hampshire Republicans. 

In 1861, Mr. Rollins was nominated by 



his party as candidate for Representative 
in Congress from the Second District, 
and was elected over the Democratic can- 
didate, the late Chief Justice Samuel D. 
Bell, by a majority of about one thou- 
sand votes. He was re-elected in 1S63, 
and again in 1S65, the Democratic candi- 
date the former year being Col. John H. 
George; and the latter, Hon. Lewis W. 
Clark, now Associate Justice of the Su- 
preme Court. Mr. Rollins' Congression- 
al career covered the exciting period of 
the late civil war and subsequent recon- 
struction, and it is sufficient to say that 
he was, throughout, a zealous supporter 
of the most advanced Republican meas- 
ures. Engaging little in debate, he was 
an industrious member of the Commit- 
tees upon whicahe was assigned, serving 
as a member of the Committee on Dis- 
trict of Columbia, as Chairman of the 
Committee on Accounts, and a member 
of the Committee on Public Expendi- 
tures, by which latter Committee, during 
his service, a vast amount of labor was 
performed, especially in the investiga- 
tion of the management of the Boston 
and New York Custom Houses, involving 
the operations of the " blockade run- 
ners" during the war. 

In view of Mr. Rollins' subsequent in- 
timate connection with the Union Pacific 
Railroad Company, it may be proper to 
remark, that he was a firm opponent of 
and voted against the measure adopted 
July, 1864, doubling the land grant of 
this Company, and making the goyern- 
ment security a first instead of second 
mortgage upon the road. This fact will 
ever be remembered to his credit by 
those who regard the adoption of that 
measure as the consummation of a gi- 
gantic scheme of public robbery. 

In 1869 he was chosen Secretary, and 
Assistant Treasurer of the Union Pacific 
Railroad, having for some time previous, 
after the expiration of his Congressional 
service, acted as agent of the Company 
at Washington, in the transactton of 
business with the government, and es- 
pecially in the reception of the subsidy 
bonds. In 1871 he was elected Secretary 
and Treasurer, and remained in the of- 
fice of the Company at Boston, diligent- 
ly attending to the duties of his position 

until March last, though retaining his 
residence at Concord, and devoting suf- 
ficient attention to our.State politics to 
make it extremely disagreeable for the 
Democracy, as well as some of his rivals 
in the Republican party, 

Mr. Rollins' name was presented by 
his friends for the nomination for U.S. 
Senator in the Republican caucus in 
June, 1866. On the first ballot Mr. Rol- 
lins had 36 votes, Gen. Marston 36. Mr. 
Patterson 62. and Daniel Clark 72. Grad- 
ually Mr. Rollins' friends finding his 
nomination improbable, united with the 
supporters of Mr. Patterson, diverting 
others in the same direction, so that on 
the fourth ballot Mr. Patterson was nom- 
inated. On the expiration of Senator 
Patterson's term Mr. Rollins was the 
leading candidate in opposition to Mr. 
Patterson for the succession, and on the 
first ballot in caucus received 67 votes to 
60 for all others except Patterson. But, 
as is frequently the case in such contests, 
various influences, personal jealousy and 
rivalry, not the least, conspired to defeat 
all the prominent candidates, and the re- 
sult was the nomination of one whose 
name had not even been dreamed of by 
his strongest friends in that connection 
twenty-four hours before — Mr. Bain- 
bridge Wadleigh, present incumbent of 
the Senatorial office. This result was, of 
course, a strong disappointment to Mr. 
Rollins' friends, and scarcely a fair return 
for his invaluable party services, but he 
could afford to u bide his time." On 
the choice of a successor to Senator Cra- 
gin, last year, he was nominated as the 
Republican candidate, (that party stiil 
having the majority,) receiving 109 out 
N of 217 votes cast on the first ballot, the 
exact number necessary to a choice. The 
opposition, however, was entirely "scat- 
tering," the greatest number of votes re- 
ceived by any other candidate being 21 
for Orren C. Moore. Mr. Rollins took 
his seat in the Senate at the extra session 
last spring, being assigned to the Com- 
mittees on District of Columbia, Contin- 
gent Expenses and Manufactures, but a 
revision of the Committees at the ap- 
proaching session of Congress may per- 
haps change his assignment. 

Mr. Rollins was united in marriage, 



February 13, 1S49, with Miss Ellen E. 
West, daughter of John West of Con- 
cord. Her mother. Mrs. West, was a 
daughter of Gen. John Montgomery, a 
prominent citizen of Haverhill, well 
known in public affairs. To this union 
there have been born five children — four 
sons and one daughter — Edward W., born 
November 25, 1850; Mary Ilelen, Sep- 
tember 4, 1S33; Charles Montgomery, 
February 27, 1S5G; Frank West, Febru- 
ary 24, I860; Montgomery, August 25, 
1867. The second son, Charles Mont- 
gomery, died at the age of five years. 
The other children survive. The eldest 
son, Edward W., is a graduate of the In- 
stitute of Technology at Boston, and was 
for five years the engineer and cashier of 
the Colorado Central Railroad. He is 
now engaged in business as a broker in 
Denver, Colorado. Frank W., the sec- 
ond surviving son, now seventeen years 
of age, has, this month, entered the In- 
stitute from which his elder brother grad- 
uated. It will thus be seen that Mr. Rol- 
lins believes in practical education for 
his sons. The daughter is unmarried, 
and remains at home with her parents 
and younger brother. Retaining his 
home in Concord, where he owns a resi- 
dence, and has always lived the greater 
portion of the year, Mr. Rollins has for 
some time past had his summer home 
upon the old place in Rollinsford, where 
he was reared, and which came into his 
possession after the death of his father 
in 1SG4. Here he has made many im- 
provements, bringing the land into a 
superior state of cultivation, and thor- 
oughly remodeling and repairing the 
house a year or two since, making it one 
of the most attractive summer residences 
in this region. The place is located but 
little over a mile from the city of Dover, 
where Mr. Rollins goes for post office 
and general business accommodations, 
so that in the summer time he is almost 
regarded as a Dover citizen. This sea- 
son he has established telephonic com- 
munication between his house and the 
office of the Atlantic and Pacific Tele- 
graph Company in Dover. Mr. Rollins' 
mother is still living in her eld home, and 
her youngest daughter, unmarried, re- 
mains with her. 

In religious faith Mr. Rollins was rear- 
ed a Congregationalist, and when in Rol- 
linsford, he attet.ds worship at the First 
Parish or " Corner" church, in Dover, 
where Rev. Dr. Spalding officiates. Mrs. 
Rullinsis an Episcopalian, and in Concord 
the family attend upon the services of St. 
Paul's Episcopal church. He has long 
been a member of the Masonic fraternity, 
of the Blazing Star Lodge, Trinity Chap- 
ter, and Mt. Horeb Commandery at Con- 
cord, having holden the position of Emi- 
nent Commander in the latter. 

Mr. Rollins was one of the moving 
spirits in the organization of the First 
National Bank at Concord, a large stock- 
holder, and a member of the First Board 
of Directors, but withdrew, and disposed 
of his stock some time since. He sold 
his drug business at Concord to his broth- 
er, John F. Rollins, many years ago, 
when his Congressional and other duties 
required his entire attention. The latter 
has also since disposed of the business, 
and now resides upon Ft. George Island 
at the mouth of St. John's River on the 
coast of Florida, of which he and Sena- 
tor Rollins are the principal owners. 
This island is a most romantic locality, 
and is the subject of a very interesting 
illustrated sketch in a recent number of 
Scribner's Magazine, by Julia B. Dodge. 
It embraces about twelve hundred acres 
of land, and seems to be excellently adapt- 
ed to orange culture, in which its pro- 
prietors have engaged. The climate i3 
delightful, and far superior to that of the 
mainland, so that Mr. Rollins, (John F.) 
who went south for the benefit of his 
health, finds it a most agreeable as well 
as romantic residence. 

From intense and continued applica- 
tion to business, Senator Rollins found 
himself, last spring, in very poor health. 
Finding medicines of little avail, by the 
advice of physicians he has engaged dur- 
ing the present season, in physical labor 
upon his farm, where he was wont to 
take similar exercise in his boyhood days, 
and he finds the change not without the 
desired result. His health is greatly im- 
proved, and he will take his place in the 
Senate at the coming session with that 
renewed bodily and mental vigor which 
will enable him efficiently to discharge 
the duties of his high position. 





It may not be generally known, and 
if known, not full}' realized, that we have 
many penal statutes against stealing, 
while we have only one against lying. 
The penalty for lying, under an oath, 
perjury, is imprisonment and hard labor 
in the state prison. Constructively, the 
penalty for slander may be for lying. 
This is so in most if not all the states in 
the Union ; all, undoubtedly. The rea- 
son is obvious. The object of this law 
is simply the protection of the state. 
The reasoning leading to the enactment 
of such a statute is equally plain. It is 
an accepted fact that nearly every man 
and woman has some religious belief 
closely inwoven with a code of morals, 
and that this belief and status of moral- 
ity recognizes lying as a sin, which sin is 
punishable in this life or the one to come. 
The natural fear, premonition or presen- 
timent of punishment, or else that branch 
of ethics which teaches us to do right for 
the sake of right, has been utilized by 
law-givers for the purpose of assisting 
the state in ferreting out crime. Thus 
it is seen that lying, so far as legal en- 
actments go, is a lesser crime than theft. 

The Bible says, if not in so many 
words, *'all men are liars." The sacred 
writers knew this ; the profane writers 
knew it; everybody knows it. And why, 
in the words of Artemas Ward, 4, is this 
thus. 1 ' 

To discriminate closely, we shall see 
that stealing directly relates to some- 
thing material. The sequel is clear. Al- 
though we profess the more highly to 
esteem what is spiritual, we really do, go 
far as concerns the present tense, prize 
the material over the spiritual. Why? 
Because it is on the material that we 
live, exist, grow strong, overcome ob- 
stacles and subdue the earth and the 
world. We can live without the aesthet- 
ic, but we cannot live without the ma- 

terial — that part of earth which is earthy 
— that portion of life which is really 
dross, which moth and rust do cor- 
rupt, and which thieves do break in and 
steal. On this we have subsisted and 
been sustained siuce Adam left Paradise, 
notwithstanding Jesus said "take no 
thought for the morrow, neither what 
ye shall eat or what ye shall drink." 
Such injunction was simply intended to 
strengthen a faith in the divine benirl- 
cence. Assuredly so, for it is the law of 
the world that the improvident are usu- 
ally the world's vagabonds unless they 
inherit a home or means to provide one. 
Understand us not to say that the spirit- 
ual and moral welfare of mankind is un- 
important, and that it leads not to a 
higher ambition and nobler deeds. It 
does, and without this god-like comple- 
ment of man's complete nature he is but 
a clod. Nevertheless, the material 
comes first, even to the lips of the in- 
fant, to the youth, the vigorous man, and 
to every one with organs for digestion 
and secretion. 

Inasmuch, then, as the material is the 
cord that binds us to earth, the link that 
connects the infinities of the past to the 
future, the laws of nations and states 
must both protect the material and its 
uses, or the bandits" law that "might 
makes right" will be our only law; the 
strong will overpower the weak and the 
weak will inevitably die of starvation. 
The laws prohibiting stealing are so- 
ciety's protection agaiust itself. With- 
out penal statutes for the punishment of 
theft there could be no society ; at least, 
not without a moral miracle such as 
would bring the millennium in an hour 
or a day; for the reason that the animal 
has not been so far eliminated from man 
that he will not rob his neighbor. 

One of the earliest laws was the Mo- 
saic law, u thou shalt not steal," and thi<s 



was doubtless an old Egyptian law. 
Even the laws in regard to tbe worship 
of a God or Gods were intended for the 
building up of the material prosperity 
of the state, this law being closely 
linked with the laws in regard to offer- 
ings made with or in religious ceremony ; 
for it must be borne in mind that 
much of what was offered was for the 
benefit of the priesthood and the rulers. 
Jesus had full knowledge of this fact 
when rebuking the Jews and comparing 
them to '-whited sepulchers." To this 
day the gifts or offerings to the church 
of Eome are a part of the priestly per- 
quisites; and in saying this we are not 
treading upon sectarianism or creed. 
Any religion that inculcates thepajmient 
in coin or goods for the pardon of sins 
is a monopoly of god-given rights and 
privileges— a subversion of God's law, 
and such monopoly is stealing. 

It has been held by some philoso- 
phers that the amount of property to be 
accumulated by any one individual 
should be regulated by a law of the 
state or nation. Fourier undoubtedly 
believed this; and, assuming that he 
considered it futile, to attempt such a 
change in state laws, he was the founder 
of a society, the underlying principle of 
which was that all should work for the 
common weal, and the purse of the so- 
ciety should be open to all, regulated by 
certain by-laws. It is well known that 
Horace Greeley was a Fourierite, and 
that the Tribune was conducted, to a cer- 
tain extent, on the principles of Four- 
ierism, one of which is that the fruits of 
toil and the products of the earth should 
be equally divided in society. Nathan- 
iel Hawthorne and others, once estab- 
lished what was known as " Brook 
Farm," near Boston, which farm, or 
farms, were managed somewhat after the 
method of Fourier. These men, many 
of them eminent, vainly endeavored to 
obtain by social laws what could not be 
hoped for through legislation. The 
Oneida Community in New York state 
is based on the same plan, with " free 
love" thrown in; and for the information 
of those who may not chance to know, 
we will state that this Oneida Communi- 
ty is a financial success. There is no 

marriage or giving in marriage. Two 
general rules seem to govern all action. 
One is an equal or just division of 
the products and profits, and the other is 
to lead a pure life and entail health rath- 
er than disease. Therefore, cohabitation 
betweeeu the sexes is only permitted 
when the woman requests of the Presi- 
dent or executive officer, that she may 
receive the embraces of the man of her 
choice. Further than this it is under- 
stood that this man and womau shall 
avoid, if possible, all chances of an in- 
crease of the census unless it is clear 
that both are perfectly healthy, with 
compatible tempers, and of such com- 
plexion and temperament as the laws of 
physiology require. to ensure healthy off- 
spring. The result is as may be antici- 
pated ; very few children are born, and 
these are taken in charge by the Com- 
munity. It should be stated in justice 
to this people that they are strictly tem- 
perate, very frugal, and consequently 
prosperous. Many of them are highly 
educated, being graduates of colleges. 

Since Adam tasted the forbidden fruit, 
nearly every person has stolen unless 
checked by moral laws or legal statutes, 
or both. Society has tried hard, very 
hard, to convince its members that theft 
is wrong, and prove it decidedly un- 
healthy by a punishment no less than 
hanging; nevertheless, men will steal, 
and not long since, a century, perhaps, 
they stole from beside the gallows. 
3Ian is prone to steal as the sparks are to 
fly upwards ; and for the simple reason 
that time and the labors of men with 
honest intentions, have failed to eradi- 
cate this propensity. When speaking of 
these men of honest intentions and cor- 
responding will power, we should re- 
member that such instances are very few 
indeed, and the men have been martyrs 
to the cause. And here we will pro- 
pound a conundrum. We hear much of 
what is termed honest government : does 
anybody know of an honest government, 
civilized or uncivilized? We will not 
press an answer. We are willing to 
wait for it. Our own government was 
established through and by the purest 
and noblest of motives. Washington 
was an honest man, and many who sue- 



ceeded him were honest; but a President 
cannot fully accomplish what he would. 
Governments are composed of elements, 
and one of the strongest is the stealing 
clement which is sure to crop out, and 
sure to be protected by law. This is 
proved in our own case to-day. Govern- 
ment claims 100 cents for a dollar, and 
pays to its employes considerably less. 
About 1S54 the silver dollar was shrunk 

sities required Alsace and Lorraine from 
France. But then, it should be remem- 
bered that the first Napoleon stole all of 
Germany and nearly all of Europe, the 
fires and snows of Russia only prevent- 
ing. Russia now attempts making a 
meal of Turkey (old pun; by seemingly a 
a tacit understanding among the great 
powers to allow it. Placing in the back- 
ground wars and rumors of wars, why 

nearly 20 per cent., und it remains at was all Europe mad for discovery after 

that standard. It is true it answers all 
the demands of a common medium ; but 
when it is sent abroad it goes by its 
weight and fineness, and then we learn 
in sorrow that we have been swindled. 
Other governments have different meth- 
ods of robbing the people. All travelers 
in the east can testify to this. Saying 
nothing of England and France, two of 
the most civilized of nations, let us look 
at Egypt. Tourists state that the coun- 
try is, or was, divided into departments, 
upon a basis of abstraction, and under 
the leadership of a Chief of Thieves. 
This Chief is responsible to government, 
and all who steal professionally must 
give in their names and keep said Chief 
informed of the "swag" they have pock- 
eted. When a traveler's goods are 
missed he applies to government; he is 
turned over to the Chief of Thieves, and 
a full description of property lost being 
given him, he is blankly told he can have 
his property, less twenty-five per cent., for 
the trouble to the government in stealing 
and restoring the same to the rightful 
owner. That is the way fat geese are 
plucked who go to see the pyramids; the 
poor ones escape. Not so in France. A 
man can recover a lead pencil there, if 
he will but wait for the police to act, and 
the pencil comes back without cost. But 
one of the greatest of small curses that 
afflicts all eastern nations is the support 
of the church by taxation. Providential- 
ly, America is free of such a burden, 
grievous to be borne. 

Setting aside minor thefts of govern- 
ments, or great thefts on a minor scale, 
we must not forget that the great, the 
magnificent game of all governments is to 
steal from each other. Germany was 
not satisfied with stealing a couple of 
provinces from Denmark, but her neces. 

Columbus opened the way to the New 
World? Simply for plunder. No Span- 
iard, Frenchman or Englishman early 
came hither to cultivate the peaceful arts. 
Going back of this, what are and have 
been all wars, or nearly all except our 
Revolution, but w r ars for plunder and 
robbery? The w r ars of the Bible were 
for aggrandizement by the occupancy of 
lands, the capture of goods and chattels 
and handsome women ; and now we of 
the world are not so far advanced by one 
thousand years as we would have been 
had not the Dark Ages fallen to the lot 
of men and nations. This incubus upon 
progress seems to have been divine jus- 
tice, a punishment for governmental sins, 
for remember that nearly all great sins 
are the sins of government. The people 
are generally right and governments gen- 
erally wrong. The latter holds the weal 
and woe of the former in its keeping; it 
gives prosperity or inflicts adversity, and 
if government does not give prosperity 
and remunerative employment to those 
under its care, in this enlightened age, it 
must find them homes in prisons and 
workhouses ; for proof, study the 
'•strikes." Railroads, the telegraph and 
ethics have so civilized the world that 
wolesale starvation is out of the ques- 

The stealing of the present day must 
be classed as one of the fine arts. We 
mean by this that a sort of wholesale 
robbery is perpetrated by one individual 
on another, by the people on the govern- 
ment, by the government on the peo- 
ple, and by governments on each other. 
The latter is sometimes dignified by the 
name of diplomacy. Oriental nations re- 
warded smart thieves. A story runs 
thus : An old man was employed by the 
king to build a house for the safe-keep- 



ing of his jewels. The builder skillfully 
laid a stone that could be easily removed 
by himself. Just before the building was 
completed, the old mau died. Before 
death, he called his two sons to him and 
imparted the secret as a legac\ T . Pres- 
ently the king found his jewels depart- 
ing. He set a trap, and one night, as the 
sons were busy removing valuables, the 
younger sou was caught. Xot daunted, 
the older son, at the request of the 
3 r ounger, cut off the younger son's head, 
so that discovery should be Impossible. 
The mother learned the terrible fact, and 
ordered her remaining son to get the 
body, under penalty of her informing 
the king if he did not. The son now put 
his wits to work, and loading an ass 
with wine, sojourned in the vicinity of 
the building of a night and succeeded in 
filling the guardsmen with wine, and 
while they were drunk he entered and 
removed and saved the body of his broth- 
er. This trick appeared so clever that 
the king offered his daughter in marriage 
to the man who did it if he would come 
forward. The sou did so, and obtained 
the daughter, full pardon and an honor- 
able position. This is only one of sever- 
al instances where kings have richly re- 
warded skillful robbers; one, indeed, 
afterwards himself became king at the 
decease of his master. 

If we mistake uot, very little improve- 
ment has been made on the practice of 
the oriental kings; at least, we do not 
half punish our big thieves. But mod- 
ern stealing is as different from ancient 
as the locomotion of the present day is 
from that of fifty years since, when 
wooden axletrees and linch-pins were as 
common as pod augers, flint-lock mus- 
kets and spinning wheels. This is the 
modus operandi : We start the big scheme 
of a Pacific railroad. We vote to loan a 
company of men many millions of mon- 
ey and give them land enough for a 
small kingdom, and then take a mort- 
gage on the road as fast as it is built, for 
our security. These are first mortgage 
bowds. The company then claim they 
cannot build the railroad without many 
more millions, asserting that there are 
Rocky Mountains where it is simply 
prairie and desert, and hence we loan 

them more millions. For this we take 
second mortgage bonds. After a while 
we start what is known as the Credit 
Mobilier and swindle the government out 
of the whole money, and then try to 
swindle it out of the interest. Worst of 
all, some of our apparently devout Con- 
gressmen perjure themselves, after being 
accused of participating in the crime. 
This is only one case. Look at vthal 
prince of stockbrokers, Jim Fisk, Jr. 
But there is one thing to Fisk, Jivs 
credit. All know how England robbed 
and abused us during the war (not as a 
government but as a people), how they 
furnished the enemy with supplies, ran 
the blockade and fitted out men of war to 
prey upon our commerce. Well, Jim 
Fisk, Jr., turned out to be one instru- 
ment of retributive justice on our fat and 
sleek cousin across the "inuckle deep." 
To understand the situation we must re- 
alize that all the brokers and gold gam- 
blers in Xew York almost invariably 
know what is transpiring in the country, 
and particularly in Washington. They 
know to a dollar what bills the govern- 
ment has to pay and when they mature, 
and they make this knowledge pay them. 
Fisk, Jr., knew that in all human and 
military probability, as early as March, 
1SG5, the war must close soon. The At- 
lantic cable was paralyzed and would 
not work. Here was a chance for a 
thieving genius. What did James Fisk, 
Jr., do? Simply place a swift-going 
steamer in the harbor of St. Johns, New- 
foundland, with orders to keep steam up 
night and day. On. this steamer, or at 
the telegraph office, he put his agent, 
with orders to steam immediately to 
Liverpool when he, Fisk, Jr., tele- 
graphed him. The agent did so. Ar- 
rived at Liverpool, he took cars for Lon- 
don and in two or three days he sold two 
or three million dollars' worth of Con- 
federate bonds — then worth about four 
cents a pound for old rags or paper 
stock. Even if it be sinful, there is pleas- 
ure in contemplating that swindle. Jim 
Fisk, Jr., certainly was to modern 
finance — alias speculation and robbery — 
what Shakespeare was to Elizabethan 
literature. He had genius. 
Once upon a time there was a "'Down 




Kast speculation," which maybe remem- 
bered by the older inhabitants. Hard- 
working farmers swapped their farms 
for one in the eastern part of Maine, 
which was worthless. Tradesmen and 
others were ruined. This, however, was 
only a small steal, compared to later 
speculations. Study the operations in 
Chicago and Galena railroad stock; in 
Michigan Central, Erie, and, nearer 
home, in the Eastern Railroad stock. 
What magnificent bonanzas some of our 
Xew Hampshire fellows have made out 
of railroads. The conductors do not do 
all the stealing. In many instances the 

a robbery that bankrupts thousands and 
disturbs our finances for months. As 
well ask if Germany would dare arrest a 
Rothschild if he stole a horse. The Roths- 
childs can make peace or war. So can 
the stock-brokers and the bond-holders 
in this country. We owe those fellows 
too much to trouble them. We can only 
let the " bulls'' and " bears" devour each 
other. Gambling is the artistic branch 
of robbery. It is sheep stealing with the 
mutton smell taken out, even as hog's 
lard is made into first rate bear's grease 
by apothecaries and perfumers. Gamb- 
ling is a fine art. High gambling is 

getting of charters for railroads that nev- played with stocks, politics, cards, dice, 

er can pay for themselves is a species of etc. The best players with the latter are 

legal stealing, or what amounts to the found in Europe; and the gambling is 

same thing. A few rich and influential high so long as the play is legitimate, 

men concoct a scheme to build a railroad, 
petition the Legislature and get a char- 
ter; next they manage to induce towns 
to vote to take a large amount of stock. 
In most cases the substantial farmer, 
who has not a goodly amount of wood 
aud timber, is robbed by subsequent tax- 
ation. This is now stopped by constitu- 
tional amendment. There is also a spe- 
cies of legislation which is legalized rob- 
berv, known as special legislation, legis- 
lation in favor of certain parties who de- 
sire to build mills or work-shops, exempt- 
ing the same from taxation. Such a 
plan works admirably when taxation 
falls equally on the small and large own- 
ers of property, but unhappily the great- 
er burden generally falls on those least 
benefited. Too often, parties start a 
good business under such auspices and 
run a few months or years at most and 
then fail, or, more politely, "suspend," 
and who gets bitten 
er and mechanic. 

There are laws against gambling and 
games of chance. Now and then you 
read in your daily of a descent upon 
gamblers and the taking of an hundred 
or two dollars worth of tools and mate- 
rials. But what police can disturb a 
stock board or the gold board? Look at 
Black Friday. In all the annals of gamb- 
li! >g no day equalled that. Why. may be 
asked, cannot government, a government 
framed under the benign influences of 

that is, confined to the rules, and it lasts 
till the party who loses is out of money: 
sometimes longer, for gamblers in a past 
age have gambled away their liberty for 
a term of years. Low gambling is when 
the cards are marked, the dice loaded, 
etc. Lords and ladies are not expected 
to indulge in low gambling. They are, 
however, allowed to deal in mining 
stocks and in confederate bonds, in our 
own U. S. Bonds, and they have made 
fortunes by it. The South Sea Bubble 
speculation was one of the greatest Eu- 
ropeans ever engaged in, and one of the 
most disastrous. Those who are curious 
in such matters will find it an interesting 
study to grapple with a few problems in 
small stealing — stealing almost micros- 
copic. One is by the skillful use of the 
postage stamp. You will find hundreds 
of advertisements for the cure of con- 
sumption or other disease; how to make 
Largely the farm- your fortune; .8100 per month and ex- 
penses paid, etc. Generally the adver- 
tisement is read with small wonder, and 
no more is thought of it. Just investi- 
gate by writing. Be sure to send stamp. 
The retired physician or clergyman who 
once " resided in India" will send you a 
prescription. Among the simples or in- 
gredients will be found one of a strange 
and unheard of name which no apothe- 
cary or pharmaceutist ever dreamed of. 
You write the doctor or clergyman, and 
he replies that if you will send him a dol- 
ihe Christian religion, lift an arm to stay lar, or two or five dollars — notwithstand- 



ing the article is very scarce — be can get 
it for you. You send the money and the 
article comes with an express bill, which 
you pay, of course. On opening the 
package you learn to your disgust that 
the said "purely vegetable" ingredient 
grows wild in your garden or pasture. 
The occult part of this transaction is that 
your Boston or New York would-be ben- 
efactor has fixed a new name to pig weed 
or yellow dock. You next send your 
stamp to the fellow who wants you to 
get suddenly rich. He sends a reply by 
return of mail that he will send you a 
book by Expiess, telling you how to 
make the aforesaid fortune if you will re- 
mit him $2.00; and, strange to say, hun- 
dreds do send the §^.00, if you don't. 
But the best of the game is the stamp 
pays the advertiser handsomely, for he 
gets hundreds in a day. He makes money 
out of a three cent fraud. 

During the late war the government 
was cheated out of millions by a system 
of fraud which, strange to say, almost 
every one considers "all right." It should 
not be called a system. It was an epi- 
demic that accompanies war as does the 
raven. It was designated by the slang 
name of A - shoddy." Government was 
supplied with shoddy shoes, shoddy 
stockings, shoddy shirts, shoddy pants, 
shoddy coats, shoddy hats, and shoddy 
men under them, including generals, cor- 
porals and privates. Shoddy rations 
were not uncommon, and shoddy pay 
must have been the rule certainly, when 
gold was at §2.80. This latter was ex- 
cusable, however. The government did 
the best it could. Strange as it may ap- 
pear, almost every one rather endorses 
stealing from government ; at least men 
don't take it to heart and mourn over it, 
though they may swear at times. Men 
don't realize that he who robs the gov- 
ernment robs himself. The people have 
to pay for all the robberies and the bad 

There are men and women who will 
steal simply for the sake of stealing. 
Persons who have enough-of this world's 
goods, want for nothing, and who even 
would be healthier and happier if they 
were obliged to earn their daily bread — 
who cannot pass certain goods and wares 

without pocketing them, hiding them 
beneath a cloak or secreting them in 
some way. A few years since there was 
a lady in Boston — alive now for aught we 
know — who was in the almost weekly 
habit of visiting certain stores and shop- 
lifting. The dealers were requested by 
her husband not to arrest her, but bring 
in the bill and he would settle the same, 
being amply able. A deacon of a church 

in the town of L , Maine, was in the 

habit, all of his life, of going about in 
the night time and stealing chains, hoes, 
shovels, axes, carpeuter's tools, etc. A 
phrenologist happened in town and of- 
fered to examine a head while blindfold- 
ed. This deacon was selected as a sub- 
ject by a committee who believed him 
thoroughly honest. When the phrenolo- 
gist's hands were placed on the deacon's 
head, the former suddenly removed them 
and asked not to examine that head. The 
deacon came off the stage ; but in the 
course of the evening was sent up again. 
Again the Professor asked to be excused. 
The audience insisted, and he then told 
them the deacon was a thief. The audi- 
ence hissed, and the course of lectures 
was broken up. A few years after cir- 
cumstances led to the arrest of the dea- 
con. His buildings, on search, were 
found full of stolen goods, such as nam- 
ed. The sad sequel to this story is, the 
deacon committed suicide before the day 
of trial came. 

Franklin said: "If rogues knew the 
advantage attached to the practice of the 
virtues, they would become honest men 
from mere roguery." This in a measure 
accounts for the growth of honesty in all 
branches of trade. It is for the interest 
of the dealer to be honest with custom- 
ers, and they will again come to buy. 
Hence the grocer and the butcher are led 
from pecuniary considerations, if from 
none other, to give weight and measure. 
So with all dealers, even to watch deal- 
ers, inasmuch as time is money. The 
better time they give the more money 
they arc sure to get in return for time 
sold. We believe it was a miser who, 
reading the motto "Time is money," 
said he would surely be rich in eternity. 

But there is another class of thieves 
who are very numerous. These are lit 



erary pilferers — plagiarists. It is com- 
mon now, since the days of the tele- 
graph, for newspaper men to lay violent 
hands on all that comes within their 
reach, items, editorials, general news, 
and all stories not copyrighted. This is 
by general consent, however, in a great 
measure. It is thought, in the language 
of Daniel Webster, dishonorable to steal 
an editor's thunder — that is, whatever is 
comparatively original with himself. All 
newspaper and magazine men, moreover, 
should not be and are not considered plai- 
garists. Now and then an original 
thought blossoms forth — or what is much 
the same, an old idea or picture appears 
in a new dress. Pope candidly said that 
he got all his poetry from the ancients. 
That was an intimation that all writers 
were guilty of pilfering, or else that there 
was nothing new under the sun. 

It is the duty of society to make men 
honest. An educated, a cultured man 
should be honest; and the higher a man 
is in the scale of being, the more beauti- 
ful and god-like will be the god he 
adores, and his daily walk will show the 
conception and attributes of his god. 
The nature of man compels him to act as 
he does act, and nature is an inheritance ; 
consequently, in the abstract no person 
is to blame for his or her acts. 

It was man's first nature to rob, steal, 
and slay. Man is, to a certain extent, 
carnivorous. He preys upon his fellows. 
Beside this, poverty makes men steal. 
Ralph Waldo Emerson says : " You drive 
a man to the wall and his integrity is 
fearfully shaken." In the early age3 
men believed, or fancied they believed, 
that their gods decreed that they should 
do all manner of wickedness, and steal- 
ing was among the smaller sins. It is 
only within a brief period that men have 
learned to worship one God, and a true 
God. Millions to-day know nothing of 
the God Christians worship ; and gener- 
ally it may be assumed that the better 
the god the better the religion, the mor- 
als and the more prosperous the people. 
How do we account for progress in man? 
There must be— there is — a diviner part 
in man. His is a dual nature; and it is 
the constant reaching forth of what di- 
vinity there is in the nature of all, and 
especially of reformers, that elevates, en- 
lightens and purines the society of the 
world. May these diviner forces of na- 
ture hasten the time when vice shall be 
overturned by virtuous strength ; when 
rulers shall prove true to their appoint- 
ment and mission, and instead of robbing 
their subjects, strictly adhere to honesty 
and integrity. 

" moosilauke: 


Reader, let us go on to Moosehillock. 
The Indians called it Moosilauke from 
mosi, bald, and auke, a place, — k> Bald- 
place." There are three paths leading 
to the top of the mountain, one from 
Korth Benton, one from Warren Summit, 
and one from the East-parte region. The 
last one will answer our purpose best. 

Let us start early on the East-parte 
road. There has been a great storm, but 
it has cleared off now ; the moon is on 
the full, and the air is clear as a bell. 
We cross Berry brook where Samuel 

Knight had a fight with a bear, keep Sil- 
ver rill upon our left, and come to the 
Sawtelle school-house. Crossing the 
bridge over the Asquamchumauke or 
Baker river, we pass a remarkable flume 
in the rocks which the waters for ages 
have been wearing out, leave the u pot 
holes" where McCarter was said to be 
hid when he was murdered, to our left, 
and, listening to the white-throated finch, 
our mountain whistler, as he sings the 
prelude to the " Wrecker's Daughter," 
in the fir woods, we reach East-pane 



school-house by Moosilauke falls on the 

It is a modest little school-house by the 
roadside, but it has a history such as few 
others can boast. Within thirt}- years, 
nearly a score of boys have been to 
school there, who have made preachers 
of the gospel. Heber C. Kimball, the 
celebrated Mormon, and Moses II. Bixby, 
an eloquent divine, are the most noted. 

"We go up through Moosilauke district, 
climbing the hill all the time, past a 
swaley meadow-field on the right, where 
a hundred bob-o'-links titter, and laugh, 
and sing all through the month of June, 
pass another school-house and over Mer- 
rill brook, and we arrive at Nathaniel 
Merrill's, the last house high up on the 
northern marche or boundary of Warren. 

We will get saddle horses here and go 
up the mountain slowly that we may en- 
joy the trip all the better. As we enter 
the woods we see the mountain summit 
rising 4,000 feet above us; the river is 
roaring in the ravine 500 feet deep, on 
our right ; the red eyed vireo and winter 
wren aie perpetually singing in the thick 
forest, and when we cross on rustic 
bridges two mossy streams, where a pair 
of solitary sand-pipers are feeding, we 
begin the sharp ascent of the mountain. 

The forest is deep and dark. Deer 
yard in these woods every winter; bears 
prowl in them all summer long, there 
are sable-traps beside the path, traps in 
which wild cats are caught; audit was 
near here that Joseph Patch, his son, and 
Captain Flanders killed the last moose 
that were ever found in this region. 

Climbing, zigzaging up the mountain, 
the forest changes, the ash, beech, and 

oven birds, and olive backed thrushes far 
in these woods. 

Soon we are out on the bald mountain 
ridge that connects the two peaks; on 
either hand are wild and hideous gorges, 
three thousand feet down into the depths 
below. Beyond to the west is the bright 
valley of the Connecticut, garden laud, 
with silver river ; to the east the dark ra- 
vine of the Asquamchumauke, filled with 
the old primitive woods, where the trees 
for thousands of years, like the genera- 
tions of men, have grown, ripened, and 

Half a mile further on and we are at 
the Prospect House on the bald summit 
of the mountain. The most sensible thing 
that we can do is to hitch our horses un- 
der the ledge on the eastern side, out of 
the way of the wind, and get a good cup 
of tea, or something of the sort. The 
house is a rude structure, built of stone. 
Darius Swain and James Clement built 
it in 1SG0.. 

We are now on top of the mountain, 
well wrapped up in shawls and quilts. It 
is a glorious day, but a little colder than 
when the Indian chief, Waternomee, sat 
on this summit, yet not so cold as when 
a century ago one of Robert Rogers's 
rangers died here. Chase Whitcher, the 
first white settler who came up here, 
thought it a cold place. But Mrs. Dan- 
iel Patch, the first white woman who 
ever stood upon this summit, thought it 
quite pleasant. She brought her tea-pot 
with her, and made herself a good cup 
of tea over a fire kindled from the hack- 
metacks, bleached white, so many of 
which you see standing like skeletons 
down on the shoulders of the mountain, 

maple disappear, and the spruce, fir, and just as though a great grave-yard had 

silver birch take their places. We have 
reached a different zone, and the birds 
change, — the soft, sweet love note of the 
purple fmch i3 heard up among the cones, 
the ivory-billed snow bird is startled from 
its nest by the path. Canada jays scream 
out from the fir shade, and sometimes 
cross-bills, yellow ramped warblers, pine 
grosbeaks and lesser red polls, birds that 
breed in Labrador, are found. The Can- 
ada grouse, with their brood of chicks, 
run from the path. Then there are nut 
hatches, kinglets, ruby crowned wrens, 

been shaken open by an earthquake. 
Mrs. Susan C. Little, wife of Dr. Jesse 
Little, was the first woman who rode a 
horse on to the mountain, and that was 
in 1850. 

William Little was the first landlord of 
the Prospect House, then Ezekiel A. 
Clement kept it for one season, and af- 
terwards James Clement, for years and 
years, was mine hos£ on Moosehillock. 
He was really the old man of the mount- 
ain. Many a night he has stopped alone 
up here among the clouds and the eagles. 



The housewife rocking her cradle of a 
stormy night, below, would mutter as a 
gust of storm thundered over the roof, 
'• O then it is poor Jim that has enough 
of fresh air about his head up there this 
night, the creature."! 

Let us get up on the deck of the roof. 
It is the best view of all from here; the 
grandest and most sublime, far surpass- 
ing that from any other peak in Xew 
Ed gland, because of its isolated position, 
and of its great height, and no other 
mountains near to hide the prospect, as 
is the case at the White mountains. Then 
standing alone it does not attract the 
clouds as the White mountains do, aud 
for a whole month in the season it shoots 
up into the clear heaven when all the 
eastern peaks are cloud capped. 

Just aroijnd us, the mountain is green 
with mosses and lichens, thirty kinds of 
mosses; and harebells and mountain 
cranberries, with their millions of flow- 
ers, make it seem like a garden, with a 
green border of firs and spruces and 
birches below. Purple finches, snow 
birds, aud the mountain whistler are sing- 
ing in this garden. 

Look away to the south first. How the 
ruby light is gleaming on Lake Winne- 
pisseogee, " The Smile of the Great Spir- 
it;"' see that tall shaft just on the hori- 
zon beyond. It is Bunker Hill monu- 
ment standing ;i down by the sea." Car- 
ry your eye round to the west ; Mt. Bel- 
knap is first, then Wachusett in Massa- 
chusetts, the Uncanoonucks, and to the 
right of them, Jo English, Kearsarge, 
Mt. Cardigan, Monad nock, and Croydon 
mountains. Close by is Waternomee, 
Cushman, Kineo, Mount Carr, Stinson 
mountain in Romney, Smart's mountain 
in Dorchester, Mt. Cube in Orford, Sen- 
tinel mountain in Warren, snd Pierrnont 

Across the Connecticut river to the 
southwest is Ascutney, and beyond it, 
farther down, is Saddle mountain, Gray- 
lock, and Berkshire bills, in Massachu- 
setts. Then wheeling round towards the 
north are Killington peaks, sharp and 
needle like, shooting up above the neigh- 
boring hills; farther north and directly 
west, is Camel's Hump, unmistakable in 
ts appearance ; then Mt. Mansfield, tow- 

ering above the thousand other summits 
of the Green Mountains. 

Above and beyond them, in the far- 
thest distance, are counted nine sharp 
peaks of the Adirondacks in Xew York, 
Mt. Marcy higher than all the rest. To- 
morrow morning at sunrise j'ou will see 
the fog floating up from Lake.Champlain 
this side of them. 

In the northwest is Jay peak on Cana- 
da line, and to the right of it you see a 
hundred summits rising from the table 
lands of Canada. Then there is the notch 
at Memphremagog lake, Owl's head by 
Willoughby lake, and Monadnock in 
northern Vermont. 

Closedown is Black mountain; Owl's 
head of Xew Hampshire, and Blueberry, 
Hogback and Sngarloaf mountains. Then 
north is Cobble hill in LandaiT; Gardner 
mountain in Lyman, and Stark peaks 
away up in northern Coos. 

To the right, aud stretching away to 
the northeast in Maine, you see a long 
rolling range of hills, the water-shed be- 
tween the Atlantic ocean and the St. 
Lawrence river, said by Agassiz to be 
the oldest land in the word. East of 
these is the white summit of the Azis- 
coos, by L T mbagog lake. 

Xearest and to the north-east is Mt. 
Kinsman, the Profile mountain, and 
above and over them Mt. Lafayette, its 
sides scarred and jagged where a hun- 
dred torrents pour down in spring, its 
peaks splintered by lightning. South of 
this, and near by, are the Haystacks. 
Over and beyond the latter are the Twins, 
more than five thousand feet high; and 
just to the right of them Mt. Washington, 
dome shaped and higher than all the rest. 
Around this monarch of mountains, as if 
attendant upon him, are Mts. Adams and 
Jefferson, sharp peaks on the left, and 
Mt. Moriah, the Imp, Mts. Madison and 
Monroe, Mt. Webster, the Willey notch 
precipice. Double head, and a hundred 
other great mountains standing to the 
right and left. 

A little to the south is Carrigan, 4,S00 
feet high, black and sombre, most at- 
tractive and most dreadod, not a white 
spot nor a scar upon it ; covered with 
dark woods like a black pall, symmetri- 
cal and beautiful, the eye turns away to 



return to it again and again. Mfc. Pig- 
wacket in Conway, its neighbor, always 
seems gray in the hazy distance, Chocor- 
ua rises farther south, and Welch mount- 
ain, Osceola, Whiteface, Ossipee, Aga- 
meuticus, on the sea-coast ; Mt. Prospect, 
and Red hill fill up the circle. 

This view to the north and east is the 
most magnificent mountain view to be 
had on this side of the continent. The 
most indifferent observer cannot look 
upon it without feeling its grandeur and 

Forty ponds and lakes are sparkling 
tinder the setting sun. Two in "Wood- 
stock, the little tarn in the meadow 
where the Asquamchuinauke rises ; Stin- 
son pond in Romney, Lake Winnepisse- 
ogee, Winnesquam, Long bay, Smith's 
pond, Squam lake, Mascoma lake, two 
ponds in Dorchester, Baker ponds in Or- 
ford, Indian pond, Fairlee pond, and nu- 
merous others in Vermont: Tarleton 
lakes, Wachipauka pond, by which Rog- 
ers and his rangers camped, Kelley, and 
Horse-shoe ponds ; two others in Haver- 
hill, Beaver meadow ponds in Benton, 
and many more with names unknown ; 
how they all gleam and glisten, and look 
like silver sheens. 

The Pemigewassett, the Asquamchu- 
mauke, the Ammonoosuc, and the Con- 
necticut, from their wooded valleys, are 
flashing in the setting sun. 

The villages with their church spires 
are gleaming. See Bradford, Haverhill 
Corner, East and North Haverhill, New- 
bury, Woodsville and Wells Paver, down 
there in the Connecticut valley. A hun- 

dred spires are shining on the hills of 
Vermont. Landaff and Bath are lighted 
up, and Warren, Wentworth, Campton, 
Franconia, Lake Village, and Laconia all 
come distinctly out as the sun goes down. 

Now see the sun just touching the Ad- 
irondacks beyond Lake Champlain in the 
west. There is a rosy blush on the 
White mountains, the Green mountains 
are golden, while all the peaks behind 
which the sun is going down are bathed 
in a sea of glorious light. How it chan- 
ges I Darkness creeps over the eastern 
peaks, the Green mountains are going 
into shadows, the vermillion, pink, ruby, 
and gold of the Adirondacks, is fading 
away, and the stars are coming out. 

But look! there is a silver line on the 
eastern horizon. 'Tis the moon rising. 
But Luna don't come from behind the 
hills. Her upper limb as she creeps up 
is distant twice her diameter from the 
land horizon. That bright band .twist 
moon and earth is the ocean. It is a sight 
seldom seen from New Hampshire's 

As we come down from the roof, the 
mountain whistler, well called the north- 
ern nightingale, chants its sweet notes in 
the hackmetacks, an owl hoots over by 
the old camp at the Cold spring, the wind 
is soughing mournfully on the mosse3 of 
the rocks, and the deep voice of the tor- 
rents comes up from the dark ravines be- 
low. Let us go in, get supper, listen to 
Uncle Jim's yarns for a while, go to bed 
and sleep till the sunrise, which is scarce- 
ly less glorious than the sunset. 





Gently the dew is descending at'even, 

Over the land where the Saviour abides ; 
Lightly the breeze moveth, kindly caressing 
j. Flowers whose beauty the darkness soon hides. 

Bethany, let thy best treasures'of beauty, 
All of the comfort which thou canst afford, 

Be at the service of that kingly stranger 
Whom thou dost shelter, thy Master and Lord. 

Unto the dwelling of Simon the leper 

Jesus is going as teacher and guest ; 
Ever in kindness, instructing, reproving, 

Giving the contrite the gift that is best. 

Slowly advancing through byways and shadows, 

Walketh a woman of sorrowful mien ; 
Weary of sinning, and struggling, and living, 

Seeks she a helper untried and unseen. 

She in her penitence, freely hath purchased 
Ointment, most precious and fragrant, to give 

Him as an offering ; would he accept it, 
Guide her, and help her a pure life to live? 

Kow she has found Him, and sorrowing, kisses 
Feet that are wayworn with seeking the lost ; 

Others may murmur, but what doth it matter, 
Since He approveth the offering's cost. 

List' as He speaks to the wondering people, 
Teaching this truth by a parable new, — 

Love more aboundeth where much is forgiven, 
Hence she hath done what from Simon was due. 

Then He consoleth the penitent sinner, 
Granting the blessing tears silently crave; 

" Go thou in peace, not in vain hast thou sought me, 
Faith that hath moved thee will guide thee and save." 

Bethany sleeps beneath night's shrouding mantle; 

Glitter the stars in the heaven above, 
Dearer and better than all of earth's splendor, 

Comes to the pardoned one God's own love. 





A fair, queenly girl, with brown hair 
and eyes, tall and slender; her dress of 
the richest silk, and hanging in graceful 
folds about her perfect form, is standing 
beside an open window, gazing with rest- 
less impatience down the broad carriage 
way ^sheltered by grand old elms. Ev- 
ery thing in the room seems in keeping 
with its occupant. From the velvet car- 
pet to the rare pictures which adorn the 
walls, all seem to partake of the elegance 
pecnliar to the queenly girl standing by 
the window. The sun was already set- 
ting, and his last rays were just visible 
above the blue of the far off hills. The 
breeze which came in through the open 
window stirred the lace curtains, and 
lifted the silky brown hair from thegiiTs 
forehead with a tender, caressing touch. 

At length, with a sigh, half of ennui 
and half of impatience, she turns from 
the window and seats herself beside a 
work table, resting her head upon her 
hand. Soon the door opens and a young 
lady enters the room, throws herself 
into a large easy chair, and rests her 
head against the crimson velvet with a 
look of intense weariness. The delicate 
features are pale in the extreme, and the 
blue eyes are raised with an eager, ex- 
pectant gaze, as her sister arises from her 
seat and once more approaches the win- 

"Are they never coming, Ethel?'- she 
enquires, at length. 

" Are you then so impatient to meet 
the woman papa chooses to place here as 
mamma's successor, that you feel your- 
self ill because they do not arrive as soon 
as expected? Lily, I trust you are not 
intending to welcome her with a kiss," 
she replies, with a flash of the eyes and 
a gesture of indignation. 

" Papa insults the memory of my mam- 
ma in marrying the woman he has. A 
governess, bah!" she continues, after 
waiting in vain for her sister to reply. 

u Ethel, sister, I wish you would not 
be so Unkind. Surely papa had the right 
to marry whom he pleased, 'and I think 
we ought to meet her kindly. She is 
young, and report says very beautiful. 
Shall we not give her a welcome, Ethel?" 

"A welcome, indeed! Yes, I think 
she will feel it to be a welcome !" sneer- 
ed Ethel Lee. " Lily, I am not surprised 
at this. You have no real stability, no 
real love for anything except ease and 
quietness. I do wish you had a little 
pride. I will not lecture you, however, 
for it will avail nothing. Give Mrs. Lee 
a welcome, if you choose. As for me, I 
hate her, and the very name she bore," 
she replied. 

A sound of carriage wheels, up the 
graveled carriage road, caused Ethel to 
retire hastily from the window, while 
Lily sprang quickly from her seat and 
ran to the window, just as the carriage 
drew up in front of the mansion. A gen- 
tleman and lady alighted, the tall, manly 
form of the gentleman, and the short, 
slender one of the lady, contrasting 
strangely as they walked slowly up the 
flower bordered pathway to the door. 
Lily cast an eager glance toward her sis- 
ter, who had seated herself quietly by 
the little work-table, and was busying 
herself with her worsteds, and then has- 
tened to greet the new comers. 

" Papa, I am so glad to see you," she 
cried, as she received and returned his 
fond caress with equal warmth. Her fa- 
ther then turned to the lady by his side, 
saying, "Emma, this is Lily, my eldest 
daughter. Lily, this is your new mother, 
and I trust you will ever be the best of 

Lily's face, flushed a moment before, 
became p>ale again as she turned to ack- 
nowledge the introduction. She extend- 
ed her little hand, saying, quietly : 

" I trust we shall be. Mrs. Lee, I 
welcome you to Elm Ho use," then turn 



ing,she led the way into the sitting-room, 
■where Ethel sat with a look of angry 
scorn on her beautiful face. She had 
overheard the conversation, and her 
proud, haughty face was pale with in- 
tense anger, as she raised her brown 
eyes to her father's face, and then rising 
slowly she advanced one step and paused, 
waiting for her father to speak. There 
was a look of pain in the noble face of 
Mr. Lee as he approached Ethel, saying 
quietly, as he reached forth his hand : 

"Ethel, my dear daughter, have you 
no word of welcome for me and for my 

"For you, yes — for your wife, none. I 
trust, however, that her life here at Elm 
House will be quite as happy as her ad- 
vent, here will make mine." 

She was turning to leave the room, 
when her father's voice, so stern and 
cold that she hardly recognized it, pro- 
nounced her name. She paused, raising 
her face, like marble in its extreme pal- 
lor, to her father's. He opened his 
lips to speak, but his wife raised one 
slender gloved hand to his lips while she 
extended the other towards Ethel, say- 
ing, in a voice tremulous, but soft, low 
and birdlike : 

"Ethel, I am sorry that my coming 
here has made you so unhappy. Believe 
me, I shall not try to take your father's 
love from you, or do aught to make your 
happy home an unhappy one. Will you 
not give me your hand in token of friend- 

There was no reply from the angry 
girl for a moment, then, slow and dis- 
tinct, came these words from her lips : 

"Mrs. Lee, all my life I have been ac- 
customed to associate with people of my 
own standing in society. I can not for- 
get that my mother was a lady. You, 
who have taken her place, I do not con- 
sider one. I wish you good evening," 
aud ere they could reply she was gone 
from the room, leaving the group behind 
gazing after her "with various thoughts 
filling the minds of each. It was easy 
to see what Mr. Lee's thoughts were, for 
his face showed the anger which filled 
his very soul. He did not speak for a 
moment, then he turned to Lily, who 
stood looking sadly from one to the other 

of her companions, and said slowly: 
"Lily, summon Mrs. Ray to show your 
mother to her room, or go yourself if you 
please. Emma, do not mind Ethel. I 
will see that } t ou are not insulted in like 
manner again — either she will leave the 
house or treat you with due respect. 
Go, now, for 1 know you must be very 
tired," and turning away he threw him- 
self into the chair that Ethel had just va- 
cated, and burying his face in his hands 
he groaned aloud. 

I think if William Lee had realized at 
the beginning all the trouble that his 
marriage with the governess, Emma 
Landelle, was to bring him, he would 
have paused ere he took so important a 
step. He had seen it when it was too 
late to retreat, but perhaps at that time 
he had no desire to retract the words 
which had won so lovely a bride. 

Meanwhile Lily had conducted Mrs. 
Lee up the broad stairway leading to the 
elegantly furnished rooms that her little 
hands had made cosy and homelike for 
the bride. The entire suite were ar- 
ranged beautifully, and flowers filled the 
room with fragrance. 

"Lily," said Mrs. Lee, as she gazed 
around the cosy boudoir, her eyes filling 
with tears as she spoke, "Lily, I recog- 
nize your handiwork in these lovely vases 
of flowers and in the cosy appearance of 
the whole apartment, as well as those we 
have just left, and I thank you so much. 
I hope and trust we shall be the best of 
friends. Go, now, please, and try and 
induce your father to forget his anger 
toward Ethel. I will join you very 

Somehow, the heart of Lily was 
touched at the kind words of her beauti- 
ful step-mother, and she took the slender 
hand of the bride in her own, and in a 
sweet manner, peculiar to herself, asked 
her to forget Ethel's cruel words; and 
then she left the room and rejoined her 

Lett to herself, Mrs. Lee sank into an 
easy chair, and, burying her face in her 
hands, wept bitterly. She had been 
deeply wounded at Ethel's words, for 
they had been wholly unexpected. Her 
life as a governess had been full of trials, 
but when she entered upon the new one 



as the wife of the wealthy and truly good 
Mr. Lee. she had fancied her trials to be 
ended. She little, thought that her mar- 
riage would be the means of bringing 
about the greatest sorrow of her life. 
But not long did she give way to the 
grief that filled her heart, and when, an 
hour later, she glided into the sitting 
room, there was no trace of the sorrow 
she felt visible on her lovely face. She 
was dressed in a handsome brown silk, 
with flowers in the jetty braids of hair 
and in the lace on her bosom. Her black 
eyes were filled with a tender, loving 
light as she approached her husband, 
who sat looking out ol the window, a 
troubled look upon his thoughtful face. 
He turned as his wife approached him, 
and drawing the little form to his side, 
said gently : 

"Emma, I trust my wayward Ethel 
has not wounded you past all forgive- 

"No, William, indeed, she has not. 
She will learn to love me in time, I am 

Just then the housekeeper, Mrs. Eay, 
entered the room, and, bowing low be- 
fore her new mistress in answer to the 
introduction from Mr. Lee, she conduct- 
ed them to the spacious during room, 
where refreshments and plates for three 
were in readiness. 

Lily met them there and endeavored to 
brighten the meal with pleasant words 
and a cheerful face, but there was a re- 
straint felt if not seen, and they were all 
glad when the meal was ended. When 
they arose from the table, Mr. Lee con- 
ducted his wife out upon the broad piaz- 
za which surrounded the entire mansion. 
Around the house, at various intervals, 
stood the large, magnificent trees from 
which the place derived its name. It 
was a grand old place, of which its own- 
er was justly proud. 

In the meantime Ethel had sought her 
room. Her very soul was filled with 
resentment towards the lovely lady her 
father had married. In the brief glance 
she had deigned to bestow upon her, she 
had been struck with the beauty and 
grace in every movement of the little 
lady. Had she been old and plain, her 
resentment would not have been so bit- 

ter, perhaps, but she realized at once 
that her dominion at the Elms was end- 
ed, and a bitter, intense desire for re- 
venge upon her who had thus come be- 
tween her father and herself rilled her 
heart. Standing there beside her win- 
dow, she registered a vow that in some 
way she would cause her beautiful step- 
mother sorrow and woe equal to that 
which really filled her own waywar.d 
heart to-night. 

She stood there hour after hour. The 
moon arose and the stars came forth, 
but to her troubled breast there came no 
whisper of peace. She had been the 
light of her father's home — her beauty 
and grace had filled his heart with pride. 
The fair Lily had ever been second in his 
heart, but now it seemed to the jealous 
girl as if she was cast entirely from his 

Let us pass over several weeks, during 
which Ethel kept aloof from the family 
circle, where Lily's warm heart and 
pleasant ways had already won a way to 
Mrs. Lee's heart. Ethel but seldom 
spoke to Mrs. Lee; never, when it could 
be avoided. Matters were in this un- 
happy state when a letter was received 
from Mrs. Lee's only brother, a young 
collegian, stating that he would arrive 
at the Elms in a few days. Ethel heard 
the news from the housekeeper, and from 
that moment her resolutions were formed. 
She well knew that Mrs. Lee nearly idol- 
ized this only brother, and that previous 
to her acquaintance with Mr. Lee Elwyii 
Landelle had been all in all to his sister. 
They had been left orphans when Elwyn 
was quite young, and his sister had done 
everything in her power to fill the place 
of their departed mother aud make his life 

The evening after the letter came, 
Ethel dressed herself in pure white, and 
twined some sprays of myrtle amid her 
brown tresses, and descended to the sit- 
ting room, where the family were assem- 
bled, and, with a pleasant gooa evening, 
seated herself at the piano. She was an 
accomplished musician, and Mrs. Lee, 
who was passionately fond of music, sat 
listening, ]ong\n^ to say some kind 
words to the proud, haughty girl. At 
length, Ethel arose and was leaving the 



room, when Mrs. Lee approached her, 
saying gently — 

U I thank you, Ethel. I wish you would 
play for us ever}' day." 

To the surprise of them all, Ethel an- 
swered quietly, "I am very much out of 
practice, but will play for you any time 
you may wish," and without another 
word left the room. 

The fare, pale face flushed and the 
brown e}*es flashed as she made answer, 
but her face was turned away and none 
saw it. From that time she was ever 
pleasant, and when, at length, the ex- 
pected visitor arrived, it was Ethel who 
gave him the kindest welcome. Her 
father saw the change, and wondered 
greatly. She was too kind, too pleasant 
and too affable for one of her proud, sen- 
sitive nature, and Mr. Lee felt a strange 
misgiving whenever he listened to her 
voice, so gentle and kind. 

The days passed into weeks, and the 
weeks into months, and still Elwyn Lan- 
delle lingered at Elm House. 

Ethel's life seemed full of sunshine. 
Nothing could be more pleasant than the 
walks aud drives through the valleys, 
with Elwyn as a companion. 

Lily seldom accompanied them, and 
thus the weeks passed on. 

Mrs. Lee watched them with a sad- 
dened heart. She knew that her brother 
loved Ethel, and surely she seemed tore- 
turn that love. 

At length, Elwyn resolved to learn 
his fate. Life held nothing so sweet and 
fair as this beautiful girl, and one even- 
ing he sought her as she lingered on the 
piazza, watching the beautiful moon, 
which shone so brightly throwiug a silver 
mantle over the pleasant grounds around 
Elm House. Never had Ethel seemed 
more lovely. Although late in the sea- 
sou, she was attired in pure white, with 
flowers twined in her hair and resting 
upon her bosom. Never, as long as she 
lived, did Ethel forget that night. Elwyn 
sought her with a heart full of hope ; he 
left her with every hope shattered, and 
his dark, handsome face convulsed with 
keenest anguish. And Ethel? She sought 
her room, and, kneeling by her window, 
she raised her death-white face toward 
heaven aud thought over the past. She 

little thought, when she resolved to bring 
sorrow upon her beautiful step-mother, 
that it would recoil upon herself." She 
had lured Elwj-u Landelle on, hardly 
knowing whither she was drifting, until 
she was awakened by his earnest, loving 
words, asking her to be his wife. Then 
she realized how dear he was to her, but 
she resolutely turned a deaf ear to his 
words of love, and now she was alone 
with her agony. All night long she 
stood there, realizing nothing but her 
own misery. Morning dawned, and then 
she roused herself, carefully arranged her 
toilet, and no one could have seen aught 
of the storm raging within her heart as 
she entered the breakfast room. 

Mr. Landelle and his sister were not 
present. Mr. Lee wondered greatly at 
their non-appearance, but Ethel knew 
the reason why they were absent. El- 
wyn had told her, ere he had left her the 
night before, that he would never gaze 
upon her fair, false face again, and he 
spoke the truth. 

As they arose from the table, Ethel 
heard the sound of carriage wheels rolling 
away from the house, and she knew he 
had gone. 

Through all the long, hopeless days 
that followed, Ethel never forgot Elwyn 
as she saw him last. His handsome face, 
so full of anguish, seemed ever before 
her, and when, on the day after his de- 
parture, news came that there had been 
a terrible railroad disaster, she knew at 
once that in sending him away she had 
literally sent him to his death. When 
the telegram announcing the sad news 
reached Elm House, she sank fainting 
into her father's arms. 

I pass over those days so full of agony 
to those two who had loved him so well. 
Ethel's grief was terrible, and her pun- 
ishment seemed more than she couid 
bear. The body of the young man was 
carried to Elm House, and Ethel stole 
into the room alone to gaze her last upon 
his dead face. There was a look of sweet 
peace upon it which told how gladly he 
had met his fate. 

Many years have passed and gone. 
At Elm House one can see at any time a 
slender, blaok*robed figure, the silken 
brown hair heavily streaked with silver, 



the once scornful and haughty face wan 
and white, and the beautiful brown eyes 
ever seemingly rilled with unshed tears. 
Between Mrs. Lee and Ethel there exists 
the warmest friendship, cemented by the 
love they bore the victim of Ethel's pride, 
their lost, loved one. Lily has married 
one in every respect worthy of her. As 
the years go by they bring peace to 
Ethel's heart, yet one glance at her sad 
face might bring to the beholder's mind 
these words of the poet: 

" Oh, grief beyond all other griefs ! 
To feel the sure deeay 
Gf love and hope within the breast, 
Ere youth be passed away ; 
To know that life must henceforth be 
A voyage o'er a tideless sea- 
No ebb nor flow of hopes and fears, 
To vary the dull waste of years." 

How many go through life with every 
hope blasted, yet it is then one learns to 
* jf * " gaze above, 
And yearn to gain a sphere of holier joy and 



The Indian character and the treatment 
of them by white men have, from the dis- 
covery of this continent till this hour, 
elicited different and often contradictory 
opinions from philanthropists and states- 
men. One class of persons think that 
the Indians had a valid title to this whole 
continent because they had roamed over 
it in quest of game. Others maintain 
that they owned only so much as they 
had appropriated b} T tillage, by incorpor- 
ating their own labor with it. It can 
hardly be supposed that the Creator in- 
tended that every Indian should have a 
park to hunt in as large as the feudal do- 
mains of an English duke, where thirty 
thousand dependents reside.while the rest 
of the world was overstocked with inhabi- 
tants who were stc rving for want of land to 
till. There is one passage of the inspired 
word which ought to settle the whole In- 
dian question for the past and the pres- 
ent: "This we commanded you. that if 
any man would not work, neither should 
he eat." Let this divine law be impar- 
tially executed, and we should have no 
more Indian wars nor Indian frauds; no 
more threats nor thefts from white 
tramps and loafers. The first navigators 
of the Atlantic Ocean stole and enslaved 
the Indians. This treatment provoked 
hostilities from the Indians for more than 
a century. Like other barbarians, they 

were revengeful. In later years, they 
were jealous of the whites whenever they 
injured their fishing and hunting by fell- 
ing trees and building dams across the 
streams. No kind treatment could paci- 
fy them when civilization thus encroached 
upon barbarism. The first settlers of 
New Hampshire lived in peace with the 
Indians for more than fifty years. The 
Pequods in Connecticut had been con- 
quered by the other New England colo- 
nies in 1637, before the union of Massa- 
chusetts and New Hampshire. The first 
general war with the Indians began in 
1G75. It originated in the plot of King 
Philip to form a union of all the Indians 
in New England, and drive the whites 
from the land. The settlements in New 
Hampshire, then united to Massachu- 
setts, suffered terribly from this long- 
continued war. They were not respon- 
sible for the war. It is not certain that 
Massachusetts gave the wily savage any 
just cause for his conspiracy. The war 
lasted three years, and during that time 
six hundred of the inhabitants of New 
England were cut off. twelve towns ut- 
terly destroyed, and six hundred build- 
ings consumed by fire. Probably one 
man in ten was killed, and one house in 
ten burned throughout New England. 
New Hampshire suftered as much as 
Massachusetts. The people barely es- 




cnped extermination. When James If. 
■was expelled from England he lied to 
France, and Louis XIV. espoused his 
cause. This led to a war between Eng- 
land and France, called "King William's 
"War," which lasted from 16S9 to the 
peace of Iiyswick, in 1G97. It led, also, 
to all the subsequent invasions of Eng- 
land by the descendants of James II., 
called "Pretenders," down to the year 
1743. The Indians had, for some time 
previous to the Revolution, shown signs 
of hostility. In King Philip's war, thir- 
teen years before, Maj. Waldron had, in 
obedience to the requisition of Massa- 
chusetts, seized some four hundred In- 
dians, contrary to treaty stipulations, 
and surrendered them to Massachusetts 
to be sold into slavery. Some of these 
Indians had returned and excited the In- 
dians of Maine and Xew Hampshire to 
vengeance. In time of profound peace, 
they began to lie in wait, murder, tor- 
ture, scalp and burn in several of the 
quiet towns of Xew Hampshire. The 
aged and venerable Waldron of Dover. 
was hewn in pieces by their hatchets. 
At that day the Indians were accustomed 
to begin war without notice, to fight 
from coverts, to fall upon their victims 
when alone and unarmed, to torture their 
captives, to dash infants against trees, 
and to compel feeble women, thinly clad, 
to wade through snows hundreds of 
miles, to be sold into slavery to a people 
of strange speech. In all these particu- 
lars they differed from the most cruel of 
white men. In 1690, the French and In- 
dians from Canada invaded the American 
settlements. Almost every town in the 
southern part of Xew Hampshire suffered 
from their depredations and massacres. 
Almost every family bewailed the loss 
of a brave defender. The Indians carried 
their scalps and captives to Canada and 
received for them a liberal reward for 
their cruelty. The Canadian Indians 
could plead no wrongs from the white 
men to kindle their brutal rage. They 
loved the war-path and sought it. After 
the treaty of Ryswick, in 1698, Count 
Frontenac issued a proclamation that he 
should no longer support these savage 
marauders, and they skulked home to 
await another call to deeds of blood and 

fire. During King William's war, in 
March, 1G97, Mrs. Duston, a prisoner un- 
der an escort of twelve Indians, men, 
women and children, performed an ex- 
ploit of unexampled heroism. They en- 
camped on an island in the Contoocook 
river, near its entrance into the Merri- 
mack. With the aid of a boy from Wor- 
cester and her nurse, she killed ten of the 
twelve Indians while asleep, aud with 
their scalps escaped through the track- 
less wilderness to Boston. In June, 187-4, 
a handsome granite monument, sur- 
mounted with a full-length statue of 
Mrs. Duston, was set up on the very spot 
where she slew the savages. This was 
the work of private muniiicence. Rob- 
ert B. Caverly of Lowell indited the fol- 
lowing poetic deed of the island and the 
statue to the State of Xew Hampshire : 

To His Excellency James A. Weston, and 
to all the Governors of Neve Hampshire : 

Know ye that we, the underwriters, 
For reasons ri'-rhtful, valid, diners, 
By deed of quit-claim do deprive us 
Of title traced, 

To all our lands in the Contoocook, 
However bounded, knoll or nook, 
On which that block we undertook 
Is built and based. 

A generous people, grateful, plant it, 
That the tide of time may never cant it, 
Nor mar nor sever ; 

That Pilgrims here may heed the Mothers; 

That Truth and Faith aud all the others, 

With banners high in glorious colors, 

May stand forever. 

To witness what this deed reveals, 

We've given our hands and set our seals : 




WifT1p „ . B. F. Prescott, 
W itne^s . IgaAC K QxGE 

Then were the grantors all atrrecd, 
And true, 'tis made their act and deed. 

MEBRIMACK, SS.— -June 17, 1S74. Before me, 
ISAAC K. GAGE, Justice of the Ptace. 

The next series of Indian massacres in 
Xew Hampshire occurred during Queen 
Anne's war with France, which began in 
1702, and ended by the peace of Utrecht, 
in 1713. This x>eriod was one long pro- 
tracted agony of alarm, terror and suf- 
fering, The most prosperous towns 
were oftenest invaded. Dover, Durham 
and Exeter were centres of attack during 
every Indian raid. Judge Smith says: 
; *Exeter escaped hostilities till 1690. I 
have drawn a circle round our village, as 
a centre, twenty-five miles in diameter. 
The number of killed aud captives within 



this circle during a period of forty years 
exceeded 7.00." This tells the story of 
the losses of one generation of men, taken 
from a few towns in a sparsely settled dis- 
trict. In I71S, the Indians of Maine, un- 
der the influence of a Jesuit named 
Basle, began to make depredations upon 
the settlements of that Province. Mas- 
sachusetts and New Hampshire were 
both involved in this war, which contin- 
ued till 1725. During this period the 
Captains Baker and Lovewell distin- 
guished themselves in Indian tights. Ba- 
kers River testifies to the success of the 
one, and Lovewell's Pond to the death 
of the other. Massachusetts and New 
Hampshire bore the entire expense of 
this war,besides the loss of many of their 
bravest and best men. Neither of these 
States committed any wrongs against the 
Eastern Indians to provoke an invasion 
of their territories; and the injuries of 
the people of Maine, according to Gover- 
nor Bradford, were chiefly imaginary. 
The New England colonies were involved 
in all the wars waged by England against 
France. In 1744, began King George's 
war. This lasted four } T ears, being closed 
by the treaty of Aix la Chapelle, in 1748. 
During 'this period, besides the decima- 
tion of the citizens of Xew Hampshire 
for foreign service, all the horrors of 
former Indian wars were renewed. There 
was no safety for private houses. Every 
occupied house was turned into a garri- 
son. Xo labor in the fields could be per- 
formed with safety, harvests were de- 
stroyed, houses burned, cattle killed 
and the inhabitants cruelly murdered or 
driven into slavery. No man walked 
abroad unarmed. The lurking foe seemed 
omnipresent. It is hardly possible to 
conceive, much less describe, such a state 
of society. It is marvellous that any- 
body escaped the ferocity of the foe. 
The desolation spread more widely than 
in previous Indian wars. In this war, 
in August, 174G, occurred the massacre 
of five citizens of Concord, to whose 
memory a granite column is erected on 
the road from Concord to Hopkinton. In 
March, 1747, Capt. Phineas Stevens made 
his memorable defence of the stockade fort 
at Charlestown. Few heroes deserve 
immortality more than he. In August, 

1754, the Indians invaded New Hamp- 
shire again, and killed and captured many 
citizens iu the frontier towns. From Xo. 
4, Charlestown, eight persons were car- 
ried to Canada, among them the family 
of Mr. Johnson. He and his wife suffered 
beyond description in consequence of 
their captivity. England soon declared 
war against France, which lasted till 
1763, and was the most memorable of all 
the long and bloody conflicts between 
those two countries. Xew Hampshire 
was compelled again to furnish soldiers 
for England and to defend her own towns 
from Indian invasion. It then thundered 
all round the heavens. Then such heroes 
as Stark and Rogers were reared. They 
were t both conspicuous .in the battles, 
marches and sieges of the old French 
war. PtOgers and his famous Eangers 
did more to arrest Indian depredations 
than all the other soldiers of Xew Eng- 
land. It is impossible in a brief article 
like this to enumerate the battles fought 
or the towns destroyed. Suffice it to say 
that all the cruelties of preceding Wars 
were repeated, and for seven long years 
a cloud of gloom settled over every home 
in the Granite State, and the wolf of 
poverty growled at every door. But 
Pitt the elder* the greatest premier Eng- 
land ever had, honorably redeemed his 
pledge to pay the colonies for their ex- 
penses in the war; and, by the distribu- 
tion of English money among the sol- 
diers, the immediate wants of the people 
were relieved. The brief narrative of 
Indian wars here given shows very clear- 
ly that the people of Xew Hampshire 
never provoked them. In a majority of 
cases the Indians came from Canada as 
allies of the French. They were the ag- 
gressors. They ravaged and murdered 
like demons; and when the French made 
peace they withdrew to await another 
declaration of war. Our government 
has not yet learned to deal successfully 
with the Indians. The Xew York Tri- 
bune, speaking of the Christian policy 
adopted by President Grant, says: . 

"Under this policy we had each year 
an Indian war. It cost some money to 
carry it on, and valuable lives were ?ac- 
riliced every summer, but each Indian 
war was followed by an Indian peace, 
with the exhibition* of several Indian 



chiefs at Washington, the distribution of 
gifts and the ratification of a new treaty. 
The policy of philanthropy, as it was 
called, consisted in furnishing the roving 
Indians with arms and ammunition, 
provisions, clothing and supplies, so that 
if they should go to war they could have 
an even chance, and if they remained at 
peace they would be in a condition of fat- 
ness and comfort to receive the amelior- 
ating influences of civilization. The 
Eastern philanthropists believed the In- 
dian could be Christianized; the men of 
the border said the only good Indian was a 
dead Indian. Both believed in Indian 
appropriations; the only thing that the 
borderer cared for was that the Indian 
should not get them. 11 

" The present war will be brought to a 
triumphant conclusion by-and-by. of 
course. They always are'. But "there 

are simple-minded people all over the 
country who have no interest in any of 
the contracts by which the Indians are 
swindled and provoked to war. nor in any 
of the contracts for army supplies which 
grow out of Indian wars; who are begin- 
ning to tire of the monotony of this busi- 
ness, and to ask if it is not possible to 
determine the precise relations of the 
government to the Indians, and thus 
adopt a policy with regard to them which 
shall give us a rest from war. Would it 
be cruel, for instance, to refuse to furnish 
these lazy and vicious savages with arms 
and ammunition with which to light us? 
The administration of President Hayes 
cannot more worthily distinguish itself 
than by the adoption of a just and wise 
Indian policy, which shall put an end to 
frauds in the service and wars on the 



In a former paper, I gave some account timately related to each other. (In enu- 

of the origin and design of the New 
Hampshire Antiquarian Society, the cau- 
ses and considerations which led to its 
formation, and a brief statement of the 
nature and extent of its collections. In 
the present I propose to exhibit: 

I. The Library: including the charac- 
ter of the works collected or admitted; 
the plan of their arrangement ; and the 
method of cataloguing or indexing the 
same, so as to render them accessible. 

II. The work of the Historical Com- 
mittee and the manner of conducting it. 

III. The wants of the Society as they 
relate to these departments. 

I. The Library is omni generis, and 
consists of about 3300 volumes; G700 
pamphlets; 11,000 newspapers, in file or 
volumes; 1900 manuscripts; besides 
maps, broadsides and engravings, of 
which there are upwards of SOO. In say- 
ing, however, that the library is of every 
kind, it is not implied that works moral- 
ly unlit would be admitted, or anything 
palpably worthless accepted. Neither is 
it implied that the library has no special- 
ty. On the contrary the Society makes a 
specialty of seveial classes of works, in- 

merating and describing these classes, 
however, it is not to be taken for granted 
that the Society has yet been able to se- 
cure any considerable number of volumes 
of any specified kind.) These are, 

1. Works of local history; or histories 
of cities, towns, churches, parishes, so- 
cieties and institutions, wherever located ; 
but especially in New Hampshire. 

2. Works of personal history; or au- 
tobiographies, biographies, pedigrees, 
genealogies, personal narratives, memo- 
rials and obituaries; particularly of New 
Hampshire persons and families. 

3. All documents, as journals, reports, 
addresses, election sermons, proclama- 
tions, surveys, commissions; printed 
bills and resolutions, emanating from, or 
relating to, the Legislature or the Exec- 
utive Departments of the Government of 
New Hampshire. 

4. Catalogues and circulars of ail 
schools, and reports, constitutions and 
by-laws of all institutions, societies, cor- 
porations, and associated bodies of what- 
ever kind or character within the state of 
New Hampshire. 

5. All public and published address- 



es, sermons, dircourses. orations, poems 
and occasional publications whatsoever, 
delivered within or relating to Xew 
Ha m p shire, her affairs or people. 

6. Files of all newspapers or other pe- 
riodicals that are or have been published 
within the State. 

7. Works of every kind that have been 
written or published by Xew Hampshire 
men and women, '-wherever dispersed 
around the whole orb of the earth/' 

8. Works of every kind, whenever or 
by whomsoever written, that have issued 
from the printing-presses of New Hamp- 

9. The publications of Historical, 
Genealogical, Antiquarian and other 
learned Societies. 

10. Books of the early age of printing 
in Europe, particularly those issued pre- 
vious to the year 1600. 

In addition to the above enumerated 
classes, to the collection of which the 
Society directs special attention, it en- 
deavors also to obtain one copy of every 
edition of all books and pamphlets, no 
matter by whom written, in what coun- 
try or language they are printed, or to 
what subject they relate. 

The arrangement of the books and 
pamphlets composing the library is very 
simple. With the exception of works re- 
lating to local and personal history, and 
works relating to or emanating from the 
Legislature of Xew Hampshire, no at- 
tempt is made to classify the library. 
With a view to the greatest economy of 
space, the books are located solely ac- 
cording to size ; except that different edi- 
tions of the same work, (as Adams's Arith- 
metic, or Morse's Geography,) are plac- 
ed together. To find anything in the Li- 
brary the sole dependence is upon the 
Catalogue. Each case for books is let- 
tered, (running at present from A to K), 
and each shelf of each case is numbered. 
Then the volumes are numbered, com- 
mencing with the first book on shelf 1 of 
case A, which would be Xo. 1, and car- 
rying the numbers through consecutive- 
ly from case to case; that is, if the last 
number in case A was 4S5 the first num- 
ber In case B would be 4SG. If. then, I 
want to find, for example, De Miranda's 

Expedition^ I will find it under M and S, 
thus : 

59-3. B. 3. Miranda, Don Francisco de. 
Attempt to effect a Revolution in South 
America. 12mo., hf. slip., pp. 30S. 
Boston, 1S07. 
595. B. 3. 'South America. Don Fran- 
cisco de Miranda's Attempt to effect a 
Revolution in. 12 mo., hf. shp., pp. 
308. Boston, 1S07. 

The Society uses especial endeavors to 
obtain pamphlets, that species of litera- 
ture considered so worthless by the uu- 
instructed, and so valuable by all libra- 
rians and writers of history. These are 
put up in linen covers called " jackets," 
and are classified partly by their charac- 
ter and partly by their size. These jack- 
ets are labeled on the back, and when 
filled set upon the shelf like volumes. 
The different classes are 

1. Those according to character, as 
Maine Pamphlets, New Harapshire Pamph- 
lets, (and so of all the Xew Engiand 
States,) Political Pamphlets. Magazines 
and Pevieics (odd numbers), etc. 

2. Those according to size, as Pamph- 
lets lettered A, B, C, etc.; Pamphlets, 
numbered 1, 2, 3, etc. ; Small Pamphlets, 
Large Pamphlets, Quarto Pamphlets, etc. 

Of these volumes of pamphlets the So- 
ciety has now, of all kinds, about 500. 
Each pamphlet is catalogued by author, 
by subject, and frequently by title. Some 
are entered five times to increase the fa- 
cility of finding them. If, then, I was 
in pursuit of Dr. Spalding's Discourse on 
the 250th Anniversary of the Settlement 
of Dover, I would find it under D and S, 
Dover, X". H., Dr. Geo. B. Spalding's 

Discourse on the 250th Anniversary of 

the Settlement of, 1S73. X. II. P. 25. 
Spalding, Geo. B., Discourse on the 

250th Anniversary of the Settlement 

of Dover, X. II., 1873. X. II. P. 25. 

On the margin of the cover would be 
marked X. II. P. 25, so that should the 
pamphlet be taken out for use, or by any 
accident be left out, it would show on it- 
self where it belonged. 

II. The work of the Historical Com- 

Section 2 of Article IX, of the amend- 
ed Constitution of the Society declare? 


that, "The Society shall * * * at 
each Annual Meeting, appoint a commit- 
tee of seven, * * * which shall be 
called the Historical Committee whose 
business it shall be to procure or prepare 
brief biographical sketches of persons 
locally or generally eminent in any of 
the walks of life, [particularly of resi- 
dents of Xew Hampshire.] This com- 
mittee * * * shall copy into books 
prepared for the purpose, all such pa- 
pers; and also all such sketches of local 
or family history, family records, collec- 
tions of sepulchral inscriptions, copies of 
documents, letters, family papers and 
manuscripts tending to preserve or eluci- 
date the history of persons, families, or 
places in Xew Hampshire, as the Com- 
mittee or Society are able to prepare or 

This feature of the Society's work is 
not known to appear in the work of any 
other similar Society, and is believed to 
be sui generis. Of course it entails upon 
the committee a large amount of labor. 
Nevertheless', no difficulty has thus far 
been experienced in obtaining men for 
the purpose. After deliberation and ex- 
periment by the first committee, a demy 
folio was the size selected for these vol- 
umes, being the size generally used in 
Register's offices. 

The work is conducted in this way : 
After the election of officers at the An- 
nual Meeting, the Chairman of the Com- 
mittee takes what manuscripts there are 
on hand, of which there are generally 
more than enough to fill a volume, as- 
sorts and classities them, arranges them 
in the order in which they should be cop- 
ied, and makes as equitable a division 
thereof as he is able, between the mem- 
bers of his committee. He writes in such 
notes of explanation and connection, 
cross-reference and so forth, as seem nec- 
essary to the highest availability of the 
volume. He has the paper ruled and the 
headings printed to order, makes an es- 
timate of the number of pages each mem- 
ber will need for the work assigned him, 
and then distributes the documents and 
folds Of paper to his associates. Each 
member of the Committee is at liberty 
P -nd is desired, to add any new matter he 
Hiay see fit, and to elucidate by foot-notes 

any part of the work assigned him. Af- 
ter the copying has been completed, the 
folds are returned to the chairman, who 
arranges them in order, pages the whole 
in pencil, numbers each article, prepares 
an elaborate table of contents, exhibit- 
ing all which the volume contains, pre- 
pares a title-page, and auy such preface 
or introduction as may be needed for an 
explication of the contents. He then 
prepares an alphabetical index of all the 
names of persons contained in the vol- 
ume, showing where and how many 
times they occur. The pencil-marks are 
then all carefully erased, and the volume 
goes to the binder, where it is bound in 
th'j strongest possible manner, in Russia 
leather, and paged with a machine. 
These volumes vary in size from about 
590 to 734 pages. One volume forms the 
report of the Historical Committee for a 
year. The fifth volume is now in prepar- 
ation. The manuscripts thus copied are 
disposed of in three ways : 

1. All such as are new or recent, and 
of suitable proportions to be folded, are 
folded of a uniform width, labeled on the 
outside, and the number, page and vol- 
ume where copied stamped on each. 

2. All such as are in pamphlet form 
are stitched in covers, labeled and stamp- 
ed in the same way, and are catalogued 
and put in jackets like the printed pamph- 

3. All such as are ancient, and on sin- 
gle sheets, are mounted in volumes, uni- 
form in size and style with the volumes 
of Historical Collections, and the place 
where the copy is to be found, indicated 
as above. In place of all papers included 
in the last two classes, a memorandum is 
put in the file of those of the first class 
above, so that the file when made up will 
contain either the original document, or 
a memorandum showing where it is, ot 
every article in the volume. These in- 
clude onl}' papers oicned by the Society. 
Some are borrowed, and the originals 
returned to the owners. 

To all the Manuscripts in the posses- 
sion ot the Society, an index is made, i:; 
which every manuscript is entered, some 
several times, and this index exhibits 
what the manuscript is about, when alid 
by whom written, by whom presented, 


what is its number, in what volume and 
on what pnge of the Historical Collec- 
t ions it is copied, (if it is copied), and 
where the original document may be 
found. Thus every manuscript in the 
Society's possession is made accessible in 
half a minute. 

In another volume, uniform with the 
Historical Collections, are mounted the au- 
tographs of distinguished men aud wom- 
en. Of these at present there are about 
500. Each name is alphabetically index- 

tion to these departments. 

Of course the Society wants to make 
its collections as nearly complete as pos- 
sible. Therefore contributions are soli- 
cited from all sources. Persons or fami- 
nes having collections of pamphlets, 
books, files of newspapers or magazines 
of any kind, would confer a favor by do- 
nating them. If in considerable quanti- 
ties, send by express or freight directing 
to The Xcw Hampshire Antiquarian So- 
ciety, Contoocook, X. II. If in small 

ed, and has a biographical sketch of the parcels, address a letter to the Curator, 

person, written under the autograph, 
where the facts necessary could be ob- 

In other volumes, uniform with the 
above, are the Scrap. Collections of the So- 
.ciety which consist of scraps from 
newspapers on historical subjects, obitu- 
aries, and papers descriptive of celebra- 
tions and important events, chiefly in 
New Hampshire. Each article in these 
is also alphabetically indexed. There are 
at present four volumes, each containing 
from 1000 to 1300 articles. 

IH. The wants of the Society in rela- 

George II. Ketchum, Contoocook, stating 
what the parcel contains, and lie will re- 
ply, stating what is wanted and how to 
forward the same. 

Publishers of newspapers would confer 
a favor by sending their issues regularly, 
to be preserved in files; Town Clerks by 
forwarding copies of their Town Reports, 
and Pastors of Churches by sending cop- 
ies of their church manuals, directed to 
the Society as above. Authors are res- 
pectfully requested to present copies of 
their own works. 



The denomination of whose early his- 
tory in this State we now write, is some- 
times called Regular Baptist, and Calvin 
Baptist. This is to distinguish the peo- 
ple of this sect from Free Will Baptists, 
found in this State and elsewhere, Six 
Principle Baptists, Seventh Day Bap- 
tists, General Baptists, etc., found in 
other places; but the name is simply 
Baptist. They wish no other and accept 
no other. 

In doctrine they are about the same as 
to belief as other sects, styled evangeli- 
cal. Their church government is congre- 
gational. Baptism is administered to be- 
lievers only, and uniformly by immer- 

sion. Yet they are not bigoted, but tol- 
erant toward those who practice another 
mode of baptism. 

There were Baptists in England and 
other old countries long ago; they were 
also early in this country. In 1630, but 
nineteen years after New England had 
its first settlement, a Baptist church was 
gathered in Providence, R. I., by that 
champion of religious liberty, Roger 
"Williams. This was the first of the de- 
nomination in America. Five years later, 
that is iu 10-14, the next was formed in 
Newport in the same State. Another in 
the same town was in organized 1C5C. 
Thus there were three, all in Rhode Island. 



Next the vine extended to Massachusetts, 
the fourth of the denomination being 
established in Swansea in ; 1663 the fifth 
in Boston in 1665. That church still ex- 
ists, is 214 years old, and among its long 
list of pastors have been Dr. Samuel 
Stillman, Dr. Francis Waylaud, and oth- 
ers of eminent talent and virtuous fame. 

There was a violent opposition to some 
of these churches. The horses of minis- 
ters were disfigured ; mobs were organ- 
ize to injure them. In oue case the doors 
of a meeting-house were nailed up, and 
in another an earnest Baptist was public- 
ly whipped. The minister whipped was 
Obadiah Holmes. He received thirty 
lashes from a three-corded whip. He 
said it was easy to him, and even told 
the officers on the spot "It was as if they 
had struck him with roses." Yet his 
back was so cut that for some time he 
could rest in bed ouly on his knees and 
elbows. Laws were enacted against the 
Baptists, and there were fine's and im- 

We have the authority of New Hamp- 
shire's former distinguished antiquarian, 
John Farmer, Esq., for saying that Dea. 
John Hariman of Plaistow was the first 
person of Baptist sentiment in this State. 
There is strong evidence that his name 
was Joseph instead of John. He was 
the grandfathers of the late Elders John 
and David Hariman, well known in dif- 
ferent sections of Rockingham, Hills- 
borough and Merrimae Counties. Mr. 
Farmer gives no dates, but Dea. Hariman 
was born about 1723 and died in 1S20, 
aged 97 years. There was no Baptist 
church in Plaistow while he lived, and 
probably his religious associations were 
either in Haverhill or Newtown (now 
Newton), and most likely Newton, a 
Baptist church having been formed there 
some time before there was one in Haver- 

This brings us to the first Baptist 
church organized in New Hampshire — 
at Newton, in 1755. This town is in the 
southerly part of Rockingham County 
and borders on Amesbury, Mass. Its 
population never has equaled nine hun- 
dred, and at the time this church was 
constituted was about four hundred. It 
was the first church formed in the town. 

About four years later a Congregational 
meeting was established and a minister 
settled. But little can be said as to the 
origin of the Baptist church. Its pastor 
was Rev. Walter Powers, and it is sup- 
posed he organized the church. A son 
of his, named Walter, was ordained 
pastor of the Baptist church in Gilman- 
ton, June 14, 1786. In advanced life he 
had a stroke of palsy, lost his speech, 
and, in part, the use of his limbs, and 
after his property was gone he became a 
tenant of the poor-house, where he died 
April 7, 1826. 

The church at Newton for years was 
small and almost alone, none of like 
faith being near. There were also disa- 
greeable contentions, as those who re- 
fused to pay a tax to support the Con- 
gregationalists after they came, were 
sued at the law. Mr. Powers continued 
but a few years and then other supplies 
were obtained. Iu 1767 it was voted to 
raise fifty pounds, lawful money, for 
preaching. This was about $250, and 
was rather liberal for an infant, strug- 
gling society. The church still lives, 
being now one hundred and twenty years 

And so there was one Baptist church 
in the State. It is now necessary to go 
back a lew years' and notice a time of 
seed-sowing of Baptist sentiments, which 
resulted, when the fruit appeared, in 
other Baptist churches about fifteen 
years after that at Newton was estab- 

About 1720 a man at Stratham married 
a Miss Thurber of Rehoboth, Mass. She 
was a Baptist, and at Stratham found 
herself alone in religious sentiments. 
Towards the close of her life, about 1760, 
she purchased and distributed in Strat- 
ham a work by Norcutt on Baptism. 
She said the time would come when there 
would be a Baptist church in Stratham. 
She died ; but her prediction was veri- 

There was in Stratham a practicing 
physician. Dr. Samuel Shepard. a native 
of Salisbury, Mass. Being on a visit to a 
sick person he took up one of the books 
Mrs. Scammon had distributed. He 
was convinced on reading it that the 
view of baptism was correct. He was a 


1 , 

member of the Congregational church, 
bat having embraced Baptist sentiments, 
he was baptized by immersion by Dr. 
Hezekiah Smith of Haverhill, Mass. 
There was an extensive religious inter- 
est; a Baptist church was organized in 
Deerfield and one in Stratham in 1770, 
and that same year Dr. Shepard was or- 
dained in Stratham by Dr. Stiilman, of 
Boston, and others. 

Dr. Shepard immediately took up his 
residence in Brentwood, where he gath- 
ered a church in 1771. He continued to 
practice as a physician, but devoted him- 
self largely to the sacred calling. In his 
own section he organized branches of 
the Brentwood church. These were 
five, viz: Lee and Nottingham, united, 
Hawke (now Danville), and Hampstead, 
united, Epping, Xorthwood and Salis- 
bury. In the Brentwood church, with 
the branches, there were at one time al- 
most 700 members. Some of these 
branches afterwards became separate 

Dr. Shepard went abroad occasionally 
into Straftrod and Grafton Counties, 
preaching and adding members to church- 
es. He was earnest in defence of what he 
considered Bible truth. And when the 
principles of the Baptists were assailed, 
he resorted to the pen 'and the press for 
a refdy. At least live works in pamph- 
let form were published. He closed his 
active and. useful life at his home in 
Brentwood, Xov. 4, 1S1G, aged 76 years. 

There were Baptists in the vicinity of 
Dover quite early. Rev. Hezekiah Smith 
of Haverhill, Mass., visited Madbury, 
N. H. and Berwick, Me., and in 17C8 a 
church was formed in Berwick. Aug. 
14, 1776, William Hooper of Berwick 
was ordained in that town. Later, a 
portion of the Baptists in Berwick, and 
several living in Madbury, were consti- 
tuted a church. Mr. Hooper took up 
his residence in Madbury, preached there 
and in other places, and died in Madbury, 
in 1S27, aged 82 years. Xoah Hooper, a 
son of his, preached mostly in Maine, 

and died at Great Falls, on the Berwick 
side, in 1S53. A sou of this last is Rev. 
Xoah Hooper of Exeter, who has been 
a preacher beetween forty and fifty 
years. • 

In Dr. Shepard's time, Elias Smith, a 
very ready, popular speaker, was much 
in the lower part of this State. He was 
ordained in the open air before the old 
meeting-house in Lee, in July, 1792. The 
Baptists built a meeting house two miles 
northerly from Epping Centre, where he 
preached much; also in Newmarket, 
where he lived, and in Salisbury. In 
1S92 he settled in Portsmouth. He left 
the Baptists and united with the people 
called Christians, and finally settled in 
Boston, where he was a Botanic physi- 

After the gathering of the churches in 
the lower part of the State about the 
year 1770, as has been named, Baptist 
churches were formed in the northerly 
and westerly parts, as at Lebanon and 
Westmoreland in 1771, at Gilmanton in 
1772, Marlow in 1777, Croydon in 1778, 
Canterbury in 1779, Rumney, Holder- 
ness, Meredith, Chichester, and Barring- 
ton in 17S0, Xew Hampton in 17S2, Weare 
and Canaan in 1783. In Canaan Rev. 
Thomas Baldwin preached. This was 
the Thomas Baldwin, D. D., afterwards 
pastor of the Baldwin Place Baptist 
church in Boston from 1790 to his death 
in 1S25. 

Some of the churches named became 
extinct, others changed their denomina- 
tional relations to the Free Will Baptists 
about 17S0, when that denomination 
was formed. 

In 1795, forty years from the organi- 
zation of the first Baptist church in the 
State at Xewton, there were in Xew 
Hampshire forty-one Baptist churches, 
thirty ministers, and 25G2 communicants. 
Thus it seems that the early growth of 
this denomination was rapid. Its in- 
crease in after years, if not so rapid, was 
still most encouraging. 

DO I? 


DO I? 


Do I pity you because I know you are 
impulsive? Most certainly I do, away 
down in the last corner of my poor sym- 
pathizing heart ! For I know how — have 
passed through the pleasant experience — 
"■been through the mill," ground, pow- 
dered, pulverized and all, save the refin- 
ing process ! 

I know how you do things which af- 
terwards cause you hours of mental re- 
gret; how you say something for which 
you would pull out your own tongue as a 
penalty; how you cut up some ''half- 
wit" for an insulting remark, and then 
hate yourself for stooping to reply; how 
you go to the parish gathering, well pol- 
ished up with intentions of being quiet 
and lady-like, and then, in a moment 
when off your guard, you snap out an 
answer to your rector, making you blush 
with shame, and wish you had united 
with some other church where they had 
no superior members ; how you go to 
prayer-meeting and "giggle*' whenDea. 
Jones says he *' can n't quite understand 
mys-tic-fied chapters of Revelations;" 
how you go to some social gathering, 
chat, laugh, sing, and have a general 
good time- and then go home, think over 
what you have said and done, inwardly 
wish you had never been born, go to bed, 
and toss all night in a sort of mild delir- 
ium tremens ; how you fervently pray 
and secretly resolve to rid yourself of 
this ever-present tormentor, and every 
time you make renewed efforts, find 
yourself plunged into deeper water; — 
and then how you weep, and beg of the 
hills and mountains to crumble down 
upon and annihilate you ! 

Yes, I pity you, but your case is not a 

hopeless one. I believe there is no vice 
so great that now and then a little virtue 
won't peep out through the loopholes. 
The very element which to-day over- 
shadows you with a cloud of shame and 
regret, may to-morrow redeem you with 
its bright sunbeams of goodness. For 
instance, if you see an enemy drowning 
how soon you'll row your own life-boat 
out to his rescue, forgetting for the mo- 
ment how he has wronged you. If your 
neighbor, who has floated his colors far 
above your own, and failed to recognize 
your poor endeavors, lies sick and dying, 
how soon you are at his side administer- 
ing the soothing cordial, or, if need be, 
folding most tenderly the idle fingers 
above the silent breast — cancelling out 
the past, and remembering only the 
needs oi the present ! Or if a beggar 
comes to your door, telling her pitiful 
story and imploring assistance, how 
quickly you put your hand down deep 
into your pocket and take out the little 
gold treasure which you had saved to 
buy Kitty a wax doll. How you forget 
yourself and all your ;i fine clothes" when 
the demand comes for assistance in a 
poor family famishing for want of care, 
and with a disease contagious and fear- 

I gave you the shadows — now you 
have the sunshine. Don't despair ! While 
the stones of mistakes are being rolled 
away from your door the sunshine of 
forgiveness shall steal in at its opening; 
for He who sits in judgment, wielding 
His pen of justice, shall gather up the 
cloud of error, draping the heart anew 
with folds of peace and reconciliation! 





There is a deal of. truth in the old ad- 
age — u a new broom sweeps clean." No 
better illustration of the fact is afforded 
than in the success of the recent Belknap 
County fair at Laconia. "While agricultu- 
ral fairs generally throughout the State 
have been "on the wane" for several 
years past, various devices outside the 
ordinary attractions being resorted to, 
in order to bring out the people, and 
thus insure financial success, and then 
not always with the hoped for result, this 
first annual exhibition of the new Bel- 
knap County Society exceeded, in all re- 
spects, and especially in the essential 
matter of public attendance, the highest 
expectations of its most sanguine friends. 
On one day eight thousand people were 
present, and the receipts altogether, 
were sufficient to meet all the expenses 
of the exhibition, and to pay in large 
part, if not entirely, the cost of the ex- 
cellent grounds which the Society have 
secured. Such a result must be not a 
little flattering to local pride in "little 

Friday, Sept. 14, was a memorable 
day in the history of " old Dover," it 
being the occasion of the dedication of 
the monument to the soldiers of the 
Union, from Dover, who lost their lives 
in the War of the Rebellion. The mon- 
ument itself, which is a tasteful and 
unique structure of marble and granite 
twenty-three feet and four inches in 
height, was erected through the efforts 
of the Sawyer Post of the Grand Army 
of the Republic, under whose auspices 
the dedicatory ceremonies were conduct- 
ed. Gov. Prescott and several members 
of his staff were in attendance, and in 
addition to the local military and civic 
organizations, the Newmarket Guards 
and the Rochester and Pittsfield Posts of 
the Grand Army were present and joined 
in the procession, which was theflnest[pa- 
geant witnessed in Dover for many years. 
Mayor S. H. Foye presided at the dedi- 

catory exercises. Rev. L. S. Coan of 
Alton delivered the poem, and Rev. Dr. 
Alonzo H. Quint, a well-known son of 
Dover, was the orator. In this connec- 
tion it may be remarked that Dr. Quint, 
as Masonic Grand Chaplain, took a prom- 
inent part in the dedication of the Army 
and Navy Monument in Boston on the 
Monday following. 

The statement is going the rounds of 
the press that there are now but eight 
students iu the State Agricultural Col- 
lege at Hanover. When we consider the 
liberal endowment resulting from the 
land grant of the federal government, 
which this institution received, and the 
yearly appropriations which the State 
Legislature has made in its aid, we are 
forced to the conclusion that it is not, on 
the whole, a " paying investment." We 
do not contend or believe that in the in- 
struction afforded, or in the general 
practical management of the institution, 
ours is inferior to other Agricultural Col- 
leges; but even were it conclusively 
shown to be superior in these respects, so 
long as the results are what they are, so 
long as such a limited number of our 
young men avail themselves of the ad- 
vantages offered, and of this limited 
number but a small proportion subse- 
quently engage in agricultural pursuits, 
it must be conceded, even by the warm- 
est friends of the institution, that it has 
thus far practically proved a failure. We 
of New Hampshire are not alone in this 
experience. Similar institutions in other 
States have only accomplished similar 
results. The only inference to be drawn 
therefore, is, either that the farmers do 
not properly appreciate the advantages 
which these colleges offer, or that the 
fundamental idea upon which they are 
based is an erroneous one, and that class 
education, in any degree sustained at the 
public expense, must forever remain un- 
popular because unjust. 




VOL. 1 OCTOBER, 1877. 

NO. 6. 


The city of Manchester, the manufac- 
turing metropolis of the State, a city of 
whose rapid growth and development 
every citizen of Xew Hampshire is justly 
proud, standing in the front rank among 
the manufacturing cities of the country, 
and wanting only the completion of one 
or two short links of railway, demanded 
alike by local and general interests, to 
make her second only to Worcester 
among the great business centers of Xew 
England, takes precedence of other New 
Hampshire cities and towns, not alone on 
the score of greater population and more 
extensive manufacturing enterprises. 
Her church edifices, her schools and pub- 
lic buildings, her business blocks and ele- 
gant private residences are all of superi- 
or order. Xor is it in these respects only 
that Manchester excels. She reckons 
among her citizens a remarkable propor- 
tion of the prominent and influential pub- 
lic men of the State. Among these may 
be mentioned four of the eight living ex- 
Governors of the State, three ex-Con- 
gressmen, one ex-United States Senator 
and present Judge of the United States 
District Court, one member of Congress 
now in service, three Justices of the Su- 
preme Court, two ex-Justices, and a 
6core of others who have been conspicu- 

ous in various departments of public ser- 
vice and political life. Of these, ex-Gov. 
Straw may be mentioned as among the 
more prominent; and certainly there i3 
no one who through his entire active 
career has been more intimately connect- 
ed with the growth and progress of the 
city than he, not only from his position 
as the active manager of its largest and 
most powerful manufacturinj: corpora- 
tion, but from strong personal interest in 
the welfare and progress of his adopted 

Ezekiel A. Straw was born Dec. 30, 
1S19, in the town of Salisbury— in a re- 
gion, by the way, which has given to 
the state and nation some of the most 
illustrious name3 of our political history. 
His father, James B. Straw, a man of 
much energy and decision of character, 
had a family of seven children, two 
daughters and five sons, of whom Ezek- 
iel A. was the eldest. During his child- 
hood the family removed to Lowell, 
Mass., where his father engaged in the 
service of the Appleton Manufacturing 
Company. He attended the public 
schools of that city, acquiring the rudi- 
ments of a thorough English education, 
which was supplemented through an at- 
tendance of some time at Phillips Exe- 




ter Academy, where he devoted himself 
more especially to the study of mathe- 
matics, in the higher departments of 
which he became proficient. In the , 
spring of 1838, being then under twenty 
years of age, he obtained a situation as 
Assistant Civil Engineer upon the Xashua 
and Lowell E ail road, which was then be- 
ing built, the last four miles of which 
was the initial work in the railway sys- 
tem of our State. Here he manifested a 
degree of practical attainment and skill 
which soon attracted attention, and in 
July following, Mr. Carter, the engineer 
of the Amoskeag Manufacturing Co. at 
Manchester, being taken ill, he was sent 
for, through the agency of Mr. Boy den, 
the consulting engineer, to perform tem- 
porarily the duties of the position. He 
at once responded to the call, going to 
Manchester thirty-nine years ago on the 
fourth of July last, for what he supposed 
was to be a few weeks of professional 
service, but what has proved a lifetime 
of arduous and efficient but well appre- 
ciated and generously remunerated labor. 
He has remained in the active service of 
the Amoskeag Corporation from that day 
to this. He commenced work for the 
company when it had scarcely entered 
upon the career of active development 
which has placed it at the head of the 
manufacturing Corporations of the world, 
and the now important and prosperous 
city was a boarding-house village of 

some twenty-five hundred inhabitants. 
The first work in which he engaged was 
upon the dam and canals, then in pro- 
cess of construction, and in laying out 
the lots and streets where the business 
portion of the city now stands, the land 
occupied by which theu being the prop- 
erty of the Amoskeag Co.. to whose lib- 
erality, it maybe said, the city is largely 
indebted for its parks and public grounds, 
and other substantial contributions. He 
remained in the company's service as en- 
gineer for thirteen years, being absent 
for a time in Europe, where he was sent 
in 1844, to secure the necessary informa- 
tion and machinery for the printing of 
muslin delaines, in the manufacture of 
which the company were already en- 
gaged to some extent in their mill at 
Hooksett, but which they were unable to 
print successfully. Having secured, 
through Mr. Straw's tact, ingenuity and 
powers of observation, the essentials for 
successful work in this line, a new mill 
was erected for the prosecution of this 
branch of industry, and what is now 
known as the Manchester Print Works 
commenced operation in 184G, under the 
direction of a new company made up 
mainly of the same members as the Am- 

In 1851, Mr. Straw was appointed to 
the position of agent of the land and wa- 
ter power department of the Amoskeag 
Company. Five years later the machine 



shops were also put in his charge, and in 
1S5S the mills were added, so that he 
then became the active manager of the 
entire business of this great company, a 
position which he has holden to the 
present time, and to the duties of which 
he has given the best efforts and ener- 
gies of a life, characterized by great phy- 
sical eudurauce and extraordinary men- 
tal power. To the sound practical judg- 
ment, clear comprehension and eminent 
executive abilities of Mr. Straw, the great 
success of this now gigantic corporation 
is largely clue, so that the large and 
almost princely salary which he receives 
is fully merited. 

Although of necessity closely and con- 
stantly engaged in the discharge of his 
responsible and laborious duties as agent 
of the Amoskeag Manufacturing Compa- 
ny, Mr. Straw has always taken great in- 
terest in the welfare of his adopted city, 
and has contributed as much, at least, as 
any other, individually as well as in his 
capacity of agent of its leading corpora- 
tion, in carrying forward all enterprises 
tending to promote the prosperity of 
Manchester. He was especially active in 
promoting the scheme for the introduc- 
tion of a plentiful supply of water into 
the city, and has been for several years, a 
member and president of the board of 
water commissioners. He is also, and 
has been for more than twenty years one 
of the trustees of the Manchester Public 
Library, and was among the active spir- 
its in securing the erection of the elegant 
building in which it is now located. He 
was one of the first directors and has 
been for twenty years president of the 
Manchester Gas Light Company. He is 
also, and has been from its organization 
in 18G9, president of the Xew Hampshire 
Fire Insurance Company, which corpora- 
tion has its headquarters in Manchester, 
and of which ex-Gov. Weston of the 
same city is vice president. He is presi- 
dent of the Xew England Cotton Manu- 
facturers Association, which position 
may be regarded as a high testimonial to 
his ability, and thorough knowledge of 
the interests which the organization was 
formed to promote. 

In politics Mr. Straw, although a de- 
cided Republican, has never been a bitter 

partisan, t nor has he at any time been 
what is known as a politician in the gen- 
eral sense. Though often called into the 
public service, it was never through any 
efforts of his own, nor as a reward for 
party services, for such in the ordinary 
sense he had never rendered. He was 
elected a member of the House of Rep- 
resentatives from Manchester, for five 
successive years, from 1859 to 1SG3, in- 
clusive, and served efficiently, for the 
last thiee years, as chairman ot the com- 
mittee on finance, at that time — the war 
period— one of the most important of the 
legislative Committees. He was emphat- 
ically a working member, never sought 
to shine in debate, and whenever he spoke 
it was simply to express a sound practi- 
cal opinion upon some really important 
question. In 1SG4 he was chosen a mem- 
ber of the Senate, and was re-elected the 
following year, when he was chosen to 
the position of president of that body. 
At the Republican State Convention in 
January, 1872, Mr. Straw's name was 
presented for the gubernatorial nomina- 
tion, by those who justly believed him to 
be one of the strongest possible candi- 
dates that the party could put in the 
field. He was nominated on the first bal- 
lot, receiving 304 votes to 222 for Horton 
D. Walker of Portsmouth, and 30 for 
Samuel W. Hale of Keene. At the elec- 
tion in March he was chosen over Gov. 
Weston, the Democratic candidate, re- 
ceiving a plurality of about two thou- 
sand, and a majority of one thousand, 
about a thousand votes having been cast 
for Lemuel C. Cooper of Croydon, the 
Labor Reform candidate. 

In the office of chief magistrate of the 
State, which he filled for two years, be- 
ing re-elected in 1873, Mr. Straw main- 
tained his independence of character, and 
acted throughout as his own judgment 
dictated, looking only to the best inter- 
ests of the people, as viewed from his 
standpoint. Although more than once 
party managers were disposed to criti- 
cise his action, they never swerved him 
in the least from the course which he be- 
lieved to be right. There may have been 
more brilliant men in the Executive chair 
in this State, but certainly none during 
the last twenty years, who brought to 



the position a higher degree of executive 
ability and practical knowledge of af- 
fairs, or who was more universally gov- 
erned in the performance of his duties by 
his own convictions of right, regardless 
of the demands of mere partisans. 

Since 1S73, Mr. Straw has not been en- 
gaged in public service, except as a 
member of the Centennial Commission 
from this State, to which position lie was 
appointed by President Grant. In this 
capacity he labored with great zeal, and 
did much to contribute to the success of 
the great exposition, especially so far as 
the New Hampshire department was con- 

Gov. Straw was a member of the Xew 
Hampshire delegation in the Republican 
National Convention at Cincinnati last 
year, and was one of the three delegates 
who from the first opposed the nomina- 
tion of Mr. Blaine, giving their votes at 
first to Gen. Bristow, and subsequently 
to Mr. Hayes. 

Notwithstanding the magnitude of bis 
business cares, which have ever received 
full attention,, and which have involved 
not alone the management of the Amos- 
keagManufacturing Company's extensive 
operations, but also a share in the direc- 
tion of other enterprises, including that 
of the Langdon Mills, the Blodgett Edge 
Tool Company, and Amoskeag Axe Com- 
pany, as well as the control for some 
time of the Xamaske Mills, of which he 
was the principal, and for a time, sole, 
owner, until their consolidation with the 
Amoskeag, he has found time and oppor- 
tunity for a vast amount of general read- 
ing and practical observation, so that, 
with a mind endowed with rare powers 
of comprehension and analysis, and with 
a most retentive memory, he has secured 
a large fund of information in almost 
every department of useful knowledge, 
which he is able to utilize upon all occa- 
sions. Some years since he received 
from Dartmouth College the honorary- 
degree of Master of Arts, a distinction 
which in his case certainly was well 

Mr. Straw married Miss Charlotte S. 
Webster at Amesbury, Mass., in April, 

1S42. by whom he had four children, two 
sons and two daughters. One of the 
sons died in infancy. The other, Her- 
man Foster Straw, is now assistant su- 
perintendent of the Amoskeag Mills. 
One daughter became the wife of Win. 
H. Howard of Somerville, Mass.. and the 
other of Henry M. Thompson, formerly 
agent of the Manchester Print Works, 
and now agent of the Lowell Felting 
Company at Lowell, Mass. Mrs. Straw 
died inlS52, and Mr. Straw has never re- 

In religious belief Gov. Straw is a L T ni- 
tarian of the advanced order, with broad 
and liberal views. He was one of the 
founders of the First Unitarian Society 
of Manchester, of which organization he 
has served as clerk and treasurer, and 
for some years as president, and was 
chairman of the building committee 
which erected the church edifice in which 
the society now worships. 

The home of Gov. Straw is a stately 
brick mansion, among the largest private 
residences in the State, without exterior 
ornamentation, but elegantly fiuished 
and richly furnished throughout. It is 
situated upon Elm St.. in the upper part 
of the city, surrounded by spacious and 
well kept grounds, embracing several 
acres of land which was a gift from the 
corporation which he has served so long 
and efficiently. It commands a broad 
and extensive view, especially to the 
westward, overlooking the valley of the 
Merrimack, with the Uncanoonucks 
standing out boldly in the background. 
The house is connected by telegraph 
with the Amoskeag Manufacturing Com- 
pany's office, so that he can be consulted 
or give directions concerning important 
matters at any time without leaviug his 

Gov. Straw r is now but fifty-eight years 
of age, in the full vigor of his intellect- 
ual powers, and endowed as he is with a 
strong physical constitution, notwith- 
standing the vast amount of labor he has 
performed, may reasonably look forward 
to many years of useful activity and hon- 
orable achievement. 





We can easily imagine some plain Xew 
Hampshire citizen reflecting by his even- 
ing fire-side, and saying to himself, 
14 What does it mean? Seven tramps to- 
day, five yesterday, and doubtless enough 
to-morrow to make up a large daily aver- 
age." It is a prob'lem. 

The people of Xew England, and of 
America at large, may well consider this 
fact : we are only a ripple upon the great 
historic stream of humanity, and possess- 
ed of no experience, ambition or hope 
that is not in some seuse common to man. 
Consequently we cannot consistently ex- 
pect to arrive at the legitimate solution 
of any social problem while ignoring the 
static laws of human life revealed in the 
authoritatively attested history of the 

Facts are stubborn things. It is a fact 
that history records the existence of 
tramps from the remotest, definitely de- 
scribed periods. It is further evident 
that in repeated instances the skill of the 
governing element in society has been se- 
verely taxed in the effort to suppress the 
ever-recurring tide of vagrancy. In pres- 
ent attempts at regulating the irregular 
features of social life, it will be happy if 
any practical appliance not before used 
shall occur to the mind of any inquiring 

To the scientifically contemplative 
mind, the dominaut causes of vagrancy 
are not absolutely iuapparent ; nor are 
these causes wholly collective, or only 
individual, in character; neither may we 
find that they are entirely preventable. 

The different causes of vagabondism 
are of unequal rational permanency. The 
direct abuse of government, whereby the 
rational interests of the humbler classes 
in society are palpably neglected, is an 
incentive of an occasional kind. The 
ever-recurring social reactions, in the 
manifestation of which the collective hu- 

man organism seems to pass through in- 
evitable constitutional crises, are motives 
operating in periodic states. The impel- 
ling force locked up in the peculiar tem- 
perament of the individual is so constant 
in expression as to allow of but infre- 
quent respites from its ruling energy. 
The first of these causes is more remova- 
ble; the second, less so; and the third, 
scarcely, if at all. 

In using language recognizing the ex- 
istence of science, we do not intend that 
restrictive meaning implying only a 
knowledge of so-called material laws. 
We would rather be understood in that 
fuller sense embracing a comprehension 
of the laws of that distinctive life per- 
vading our whole human fabric. The 
progress of science, or, to be more ex- 
plicit, the approximation to the fulfill- 
ment of science in human consciousness, 
is, in our opinion, teaching us better ideas 
of government and its legitimate effect 
upon the masses. True science, howev- 
er, is at present so confined in its limits, 
being of necessity entertained only by 
those who have forsaken all and follow- 
ed the experimentally humanized divine 
Word, its effect is as yet seen only darkly 
in a glass. As yet the brighter hope of 
human, organized society, lies in the 
more vital — more experimentally true — 
instruction afforded to the minds of those 
certain to be the future rulers in govern- 
mental affairs. The child listening by its 
mother's knee, or hearing on the bench 
of a country common school, or imbibing 
the words of the local pulpit or rostrum, 
or catching snatches of thought from the 
widely-circulating improved literature of 
the day, may derive some earnest of a 
scientific insight of the true law of social 
life that may in the future redound to the 
amelioration of long-lasting unfortunate 
conditions. When the true law of soci- 
ety U seen and illustrated, although the 



circumstance may not prevent humanity 
from passing through its inherent, criti- 
cal phases, it may soften the asperity of 
those changes that now afflict us in our 
irrational and unprotected state. Human 
life is not unlike the progress of the sea- 
sons. The summer's heat and the win- 
ter's cold tell more severely upon those 
whose neglect of the scientific means of 
protection has left them open to the as- 
saults of climatic severity and inclemency. 

We have spoken hesitatingly of the 
prospect of repressing tendencies to va- 
grantism resident in the temperamental 
conditions of the individual. This aspect 
of our subject anticipates the legitimate 
claims of the individual upon society. 
The Declaration of Independence avers 
that men have certain ,w inalienable rights, 
such as life, liberty and the pursuit of 
happiness.*' We may advance upon this 
avowal so far as to assert that men have 
certain instinctive rights, so deeply con- 
firmed in the vital consciousness of the 
individual that the full force of the arm 
of arbitrary power has never been able 
to annul their promptings. We may say 
that one of these instinctive rights is the 
right to travel peaceably in the public 

The instinctive rights of the natural 
vagrant arise from the implied existence 
of individual man as a composite being, 
and not merely as a complex or a simple 
one. The individual human form is com- 
pounded of many elements uniting in 
adaptation to the fulfilment of a particu- 
lar use. If that use imply a lack of per- 
sonal resolution and constancy, it is nev- 
ertheless the right of the individual to 
exercise it within legitimate bounds. The 
man who is organically impelled to a life 
of continued and ever-varying change is 
as rationally free to follow his individual 
bent as the man whose self-concentered 
executiveness of character enables him 

to successfully prosecute a stationary use 
in society; we may add it is the instiyict 
of this right that has enabled the natural 
tramp to assert his temperamental char- 
acteristics in spite of the exertions of his 
naturally more favored brother. 

In multitudinous instances the strong 
arm of the law has been vainly employed 
against vagabondism. It now only re- 
mains to allow tramps to wander within 
the limits of the law. This position is, 
however, taken from an other than mere 
sentimental considerations. Though 
among others we do not despise the use 
confessed by the poet Wordsworth, — 

Such pleasure is to one kind being known, 

My neighbor, when with punctual care, each week 

Duly as Friday comes, though prest herself 

By her own wants, she from her chest of meal 

Takes one unsparing handful for the scrip 

Of this old mendicant, and from her door 

Keturning with exhilerated heart, 

Sits by her tire, and builds her hope in heaven, — 

yet we would not allow the tramp to im- 
pose upon society by avoiding, through 
a mistaking public administration, any 
equivalent return for his maintenance. 
We refer to the practice of harboring 
tramps at the public expense. A va- 
grant should not be afforded a privilege 
that is denied to the habitually industri- 
ous individual. Yet every year much 
money is taken from the public treasury 
in New Hampshire alone for the support 
of people for no other reason than they 
are ;i transients." We would remove 
this abuse entirely and substitute an ar- 
rangement providiug one or more sta- 
tions in every town where vagrants can 
obtain suitable food and comfortable 
lodging, and any other necessaries they 
may require, by making a suitable return 
in manual labor, the fruits of which 
should enter into the public treasury. In 
other respects we would say to the tramp, 
11 Go in peace, but remember that in all 
things you obey the law securing all in- 
dividuals in their peaceable rights." 




This is the story of Simon. 
Whether he be 
High in degree, 
Worthy poetical mention, 
Worthy the reader's attention, 
Judge ye the same, and then give him his meed, 
Praise him or blame, as this record you read, 
Telling the story of Simon. 

Hearty and hale was Simon. 
Face like a full moon aglow with good cheer, 
Firm in the nose, and with generous ear ; 
Square at his shoulders and broad at his feet, 
Eyes true and earnest, and mouth e'er discreet ; 
Calmly he goes on his straightforward way, 
Honestly utters what he has to say ; 
Ever endeavoring the weak to protect ; 
Caring for nothing of fashion or sect ; 
Honoring justice and truth in the land, 
Bound to no popular leader's command ; 
Born a reformer wherever he goes, 
Active and earnest, and dressed in plain clothes, 
Looking and feeling and acting the man, 
Truth for his motto, the nation his clan — 

Such was the patriot Simon. 

One little hobby had Simon. 
Seeing the evils of intemperance, 
Feeling the people should make an advance 
Over the bounds which so long had confined 
Careful society — rather inclined 
Never to meddle with even a foe, 
When it wa3 dubious whether or no 
Most of its members were for or against — 
He, with unyielding persistence, commenced 
Faithfully urging, by deed and by tongue, 
Temperance measures, and fearlessly flung 
Gauntlet and gage to whoever upheld 
Those who the worst of accursed fetters weld — 
Urging in eloquence fervent and grand 
Voters throughout this unfortunate land 


On to the warfare till, purified, free, 
Homes should be blest, and their curse should not be. 
Thus plead the temperate Simon. 

" Abstinence total, " quoth Simon. 
Some could not bear such conversion as this, 
Surely, too strong came such doctrine amiss; 
So, in their half-and-half doubt and belief, 
Striving to compromise doom and relief, 
These, not a small class, put into their creed 
Ample provision for those who might need 
S pirit to take when they did not feel well ; 
Only to such should the dram-dealers sell. 

"Weak in the backbone," thought Simon, 

Stubborn opponents met Simon. 
Some were inclined on this subject to think 
They had a right to drink or not drink, 
Just as they pleased, and no law should be made 
Binding the drinker, the dram or the trade. 
Every one would resist to the last 
Any such law against liberty passed. 
" License and Liberty, one and the same! " 
This was their ciy, and to them many came. 
Such were the parties that soon were to strive, 
When the election should duly arrive, 
Each for its measures and rule in the State, 

Strong in their numbers, aggressive, elate, 
During such epoch lived Simon. 


!' ' 

Now to election goes Simon. 
Town-house with tremblings in all of its joints, 
Such as Old Time to old age now appoints; 
Boys with revivification of voice, 
Who in the day and its bounties rejoice; 
Men, young and old, rich and poor, strong and weak, 
Rich ones with brass, and poor ones with cheek, 
Seeking those "certain inalienable rights," 
Fought about, talked about, thought about nights — 
Such the assembly, upon a March morn, 
Seen in the town where my hero was born. 

Into the town-house walks Simon. 

Quiet and thoughtful is Simon. 
One and another withdraw him aside, 
Warn him what will and what will not betide 
Should he not vote with their party— he must! 
"Yes," answers Simon, " if you will adjust 
All that your party is voting for here 
So that it reads to me wise, true and clear, 
Then will I vote your straight ticket right through — 
Otherwise, that thing I never shall do." 


Fiercely the battle was waged on that day ; 
Justly by all? As to that I can't say. 
But when results of the contest were known, 
Oh! what a deep-sounding, dolorous groan 
Rose from the party whose schemes were undone! 
Oh ! what a shout from the party that wou ! 
Those who had favored the temperance cause 
Most in their platform and most by their laws 
Lost in the strife by a pitiful lack — 
Only one vote would have won the attack; 
And with the rest of the ballots there lay 
One which had brought to this desperate fray 
The name of a candidate known to but few, 
But what man had put it there every one knew. 
Saying, *' See, so much from Simon! " 

Oh ! how the losers cursed Simon ! 
Taking the power right out of their hands, 
Satisfied only with all his demands, 
Getting in consequence nothing and worse, 
Losing a footing and gaining a curse; 

Thus worked the wisdom of Simon. 

Such is the story of Simon. 
Still he survives, 
Still he contrives 

Much that is sanctioned by reason, 

Much that is good in its season. 
"Whether he loses because of false hopes, 
Much that he works for, or whether he copes 
Bravely 'gainst evil, and waits for the time 
When to his sentiments all shall incline, 

Judge ye who read about Simon. 





Statistics are quoted to show that hu- 
man life has beeu prolonged and human 
comforts increased within the present 
century. This is true ; but how have these 
results been brought about? Improved 
medical skill and superior nursing have 
prolonged the life of the feeble, sickly, 
diseased, scrofulous and consumptive 
patients. Better houses, warmer clothes 
and lighter work have enhanced their 
comforts. Multitudes live for scores of 
years who formerly could not have with- 
stood the hardships of the age; hence, 
the average of human life has been 
lengthened. But laborers and thinkers 
do not live so long. 

Those very defences against cold and 
rain which protect. the feeble, enervate 
the healthy. Dr. Belknap mentions 
nearly a score of people in the last cent- 
ury, in this State, who lived beyond a 
hundred years. ** In Londonderry the 
first planters lived, on an average, to 
eighty years ; some to ninety, and others 
to one hundred. Among the last was 
Wm. Scoby, who died at the age of one 
hundred and four. The last two heads 
of sixteen families who began the plant- 
ing of that town died there in 1782, aged 
ninety-three years each.'" Such exam- 
ples of longevity are very rare in our 
days. The family of Col. James Davis 
of Durham was remarkable for length 
of days. The father died at eighty-eight, 
the mother at one hundred and two, and 
the average age of nine children was 
eighty-four years ! The same author, 
speaking of the pioneers of New Hamp- 
shire, says : " They frequently lie out in 
the woods for several days or weeks to- 
gether, in all seasons of the year. A 
hut, composed of poles and bark, suffices 
them for shelter, and on the open side of 

it a large fire secures them from the se- 
verity of the weather. Wrapped in a 
blanket, with their feet next the fire, 
they pass the longest and coldest nights, 
and awake vigorous for labor the suc- 
ceeding day. Their food, when thus em- 
ployed, was salted pork or beef with po- 
tatoes and bread of Indian corn, and 
their best drink was water mixed with 
ginger/' I am inclined to think that the 
good Doctor has given to these wood- 
men a greater variety of food than they 
actually enjoyed, for potatoes were not 
much cultivated in New Hampshire dur- 
ing the last century. I have heard my 
father describe the'outfit of two brothers 
who were sent into the woods in winter 
to fell the trees for early spring clearing. 
Their father left them in the woods for a 
month's residence with two bushels of 
beans and a small firkin of salted pork, 
with an iron kettle in which to cook their 
food. Bean porridge constituted their 
only rations morning and evening, and a 
neighboring spring furnished their bev- 

Even the student life of that period 
was as rude as the age that gave it birth. 
When the first college students arrived 
in Hanover, a century ago, they en- 
camped in the woods and provided, for a 
time, their own food. The first booths 
they built were too weak* to withstand a 
storm, and one night, during a tempest, 
the sleepers were buried in the ruins of 
their temporary huts. They were, how- 
ever, more scared than hurt, for the hem- 
lock boughs and bark which sheltered 
them were too light to crush them. The 
students of that period often labored for 
their own support, and the college laws 
made it penal for any scholar to cast 
contempt on manual labor. My own 



experience in college life, as student and 
teacher, now runs back nearly fifty 
years. The expenses of living are now 
three times as great at home and at 
school as they theu were. M} r annual 
expenses in college were one hundred 
and fifty dollars, all told ; now the com- 
mon bills of students are from three to 
six hundred per annum. But let me re- 
cur to pleasing recollections. When I 
left home for college, my mother gave 
me just such a present as Shakespeare 
willed to his wife, "a second best bed," 
which being wrapped in a home-made 
coverlet was placed in a farm wagon 
without springs, and to this was har- 
nessed the poorest horse on the farm, 
lame in one leg, and blind in one eye, to 
take me and my little store of home-spun 
clothes to college. My charioteer was a 
4 hired boy,' who seemed to be without 
father, without mother, and without de- 
scent. In fact, he had never heard of 
any place of education but the town 
school, and might say with FalstafF, " I 
have forgotten what the inside of a 
church is made of." 

It required two whole days to travel 
the sixty miles. Here let me interrupt 
my personal narrative to speak briefly of 
the domestic, social, moral and literary 
condition of the people of New Hamp- 
shire fifty years ago. The population 
then was not very much less than at 
present. It was homogeneous. The ma- 
jority were farmers. Manufactures were 
scarcely known in the State. There was 
little money. The chief business of daily 
life was carried on by barter. The farm- 
ers raised all their food, and made at 
home all their clothes. The shoemaker 
and tailor paid semi-annual visits to each 
house, and made the shoes and clothes 
for the entire household. The cloth used 
was made iu the house, and dressed by a 
neighboring fuller, as he was called. 
The leather was tanned, by cue of the 
community, from skins taken from ani- 
mals slaughtered for the use of the fami- 
ly. A sufficient amount of wheat and 
Indian corn was raised for the supply of 
the entire population. It was one of the 
boy's duties to go to mill, and on horse- 
back, above two or three bags of grain. 
The picture of the mill boy in Henry 

Clay's life shows the trials to which such 
youths were often subjected. The houses 
of that period were generally low, ill- 
warmed and ill-ventilated structures, 
without paint inside or out, Carpets and 
pianos were unknown. The old-fash- 
ioned spining-wheel occupied the place 
of the latter, and mats made of rags curi- 
ously wrought served as an apology for 
carpets. The work of the farm, in the 
house and field, was performed by the 
hands. Maehines for mowing, reaping 
and threshing; for washing, churning 
aud sewing, were unknown. It was lit- 
erally manual labor that subdued the 
rough and stony soil, and prepared the 
food and wrought the fabrics which 
warmed and fed the people! Eailroads 
and telegraphs had not been heard of. 
Steam was just coming into use in naviga- 
tion. Men travelled in their -own wag- 
ons and sleighs. Yery few chaises had 
been introduced. The mail was carried 
in the rural districts on horseback in sad- 
dle-bags, and the carrier, though not a 
student, blew a tin horn to announce his 
arrival at a house that was so fortunate 
as to take one newspaper. I remember 
when the first coach for the conveyance 
of passengers was put upon the road from 
Gilmanton to Dover. More people, dai- 
ly, watched its approach than now stand 
at the railway station to witness the ar- 
rival of the train. 

Society, as it now exists, was un- 
known. People visited their neighbors 
once or twice a year, the ladies arriving 
at the scene of action at two o'clock, the 
gentlemen about six. The table, for sup- 
per, was luxuriously furnished with all 
the dainties of the season: cakes, pies, 
preserves and domestic viands and con- 
diments of every description. The 
tongues, which are the only edged tools 
that grow sharper by using, and the nee- 
dles were plied with great diligence by 
the ladies till the session adjourned. The 
standard of morals was higher than at 
present. Crime was punished. Insan- 
ity, before, or during, or after, the crim- 
inal act. was seldom pleaded as an ex- 
cuse. The murderer was hanged with- 
out benefit of clergy, and the minister 
1 improved " the occasion by an appro- 
priate sermon. 



The people then settled their ministers 
by vote of the town. The clergy in that 
day literally indoctrinated their people. 
Religious periodicals were unknown. 
Societies for the diffusion of useful or re- 
ligious knowledge were very rare. Dog- 
matic theology was more diligently, and, 
to use an old term, "painfully" preached 
than at present. The church edifices 
were built " on every high hill." The 
custom arose, it is said, from the attacks 
of the Indians in Puritan times. From 
these lofty eminences the enemy could 
be watched during divine service. These 
places of worship were large, barn- 
shaped buildings with a " porch " at each 
end, without warmth in winter, or venti- 
lation in summer, except from broken 
panes of glass.* Public lectures were 
unknown. I well remember when Ab- 
ner Kneeland proclaimed his atheistical 
doctrines, in Boston, a thrill of horror 
ran through every thoughtful mind in 
New England. Since that da}', under 
the specious name of i; philosophy ," the 
same pantheistic doctrines have been 
trundled on rails into every large village 
and city in the country, and have been 
kindly received, as a sugar-coated alter- 
ative for the common mind, from the lips 
of Theodore Parker and others. Such 
theories were not discussed in the news- 
papers of the day, fifty years ago. The 
atheist, infidel or universalist was 
obliged to have a special organ to repre- 
sent his peculiar sentiments. Such were 
14 then " the people of Xew Hampshire in 
practice and theory. They worked hard 
to subdue an uncongenial soil and re- 
ceived but limited returns for their labor. 
A boy of ten or twelve years of age was 
expected to do half a man's work, besides 
a multitude of '•chores' in the morning 
and evening. Three months of the year 

* About 1710, the parishioners of Rev. 
Timothy Edwards, father of Jonathan, 
agitated the subject of building a new 
church at "Windsor. Conn. A parishioner 
wrote a poem— here is a part. 

14 One other reason yet there is 

Tne which I will unfold, 
Eow many of us suffer much 

Both by the heat and cold. 

It is almost four milds 

Which some of us do go, 
Upon God's holy Sabbath day, 

In times of frost an<i tapw." 

were given to the district school ; and 
one reader, with the Xew Testament, 
one arithmetic and one grammar consti- 
tuted the boy's librarj-. Xow, the vari- 
ous series of books, with new studies, in- 
crease the number of text-books ten-fold, 
without materially increasing the knowl- 
edge of the learner. Work, hard, ex- 
hausting work, was the law of the farm 
boy's life, and play the rare exception. 
The ends of my fingers, even now, seem 
to tingle from the " wear and tear " of 
stone-picking during cold April days, 
when I worked alone with no friend near 
but my little dog. 

That discipline was my salvation. La- 
bor and study occupied all my time. I 
was thus guarded against temptation, 
evil companionship and reckless prodi- 
gality. Work, my young friends, work 
with your own hands, if you would se- 
cure a souud mind in a sound body, and 
enjoy the highest fruits of the best edu- 
cation. Work, young ladies, with your 
own hands if you would grow old grace- 

" How to be beautiful when old? 

I can tell you, maiden fair — 
Not by lotions, dyes and pigments, 

Xot by washes for your hair. 
While you're young, be pure and gentle, 

Keep your passions well controlled; 
"Walk and work and do your duty, 

You'll be handsome when you're old." 

I know that the current of fashion rnns 
counter to this advice, for since my boy- 
hood society has undergone a complete 
social revolution. The world moves. 
Where is the world in which I was born? 
With increased wealth have come its con- 
stant attendants, luxury and indolence. 
Boys in the first families live for play, 
girls for show, and the parents for pleas- 
ure. Farm labor, the most useful, 
healthful and moral on earth, has been • 
exchanged for the more exciting em- 
ployments of the shop, the factory and 
the railroad. In the rural districts of 
our State which the railroads have not 
reached, the old homesteads are fast fall- 
ing into decay! Labor in the kitchen 
has become unfashionable. Spining and 
weaving are obsolete ideas. The piano 
has usurped the place of the wheel, and 
worsted work has supplanted the loom. 
44 It is undeniable," says Prentice, " that 



in America it takes three to make a 
couple — he, she. and a hired girl. Had 
Adam been a modern, there would have 
been a hired girl in Paradise to look after 
little Abel and * raise Cain," and to burn 
the meat (if the}' had any) and spoil the 
bread. Domestic manufactures declined 
as factories arose. It is within the mem- 
ory of men now living when three wise 
men from Boston traversed the banks of 
the Pawtucket near the falls, pretending 
to be angling, but in reality considering 
a plan of building a dam across the river 
and using the water to turn spindles. 
They bought the privilege, drew out the 
water by a canal, reared their rectangu- 
lar brick buildings and filled them with 
machinery. They then scoured the coun- 
try for farmers' girls to work in the fac- 
tories. This process went on until large 
cities, like Lowell, Lawrence and Man- 
chester, sprang up wholly devoted to 
manufactures. A single city often con- 
tained as many as G000 American girls 
engaged in spinning and weaving. The 
entire surplus population of the conntry 
was temporarily imprisoned " in these 
noisy work-shops. Girls could no longer 
be found for domestic service. The high 
wages of the factories commanded the 
services of all that could be spared from 
home. Then starving Ireland began to 
pour her industrious population upon 
our shores. The men worked by thou- 
sands upon our railroads, and the girls, 
everywhere, went into domestic service. 
Then the reign of Bridget commenced. 
She has, with her improved condition 
and increased wages, made herself mis- 
tress of the situation. She dictates terms 
of peace and war, because she prepares 
and serves out the rations of the family. 
The farmers' daughters are no longer 
known as %i hired help." Not one in a 
hundred of those doing housework in this 
country is of American birth. They have 
also disappeared from the factories, and 
Irish operatives are filling their places. 
Neither domestic service nor factory la- 
bor now employs^American girls. It is 
said to be a mystery what becomes of all 
the pins. It is equally mysterious what 
becomes of American girls. They have 
ceased to milk the cows and churn the 
butter; they toil not neither do they 

spin, as they once did ; they are missed, 
sadly missed, in the kitchen and in the 
factory. Many of them, by the new pro- 
cess of culture, have become delicate la- 
dies, sitting in close rooms heated by 
air-tight stoves or furnaces, without the 
natural stimulus of light and air. afflicted 
with chronic neuralgia or pulmonary 
weakness. Our modern physical educa- 
tion, which is to cure all the shocks that 
flesh is heir to, is conducted in heated 
rooms. Travelling is no longer a health- 
ful exercise. Men and women, fifty years 
ago, went long journeys in open wagons 
or on horseback. The most rapid kind 
of locomotion was the six-horse stage 
with twenty-five passengers inside and 
out, making speed at nine miles an hour. 
A day's ride in such a vehicle jolted the 
body, stirred the blood, wearied the 
limbs, and made the traveller hungry and 
sleepy. He ate heartily, slept soundly, 
and was refreshed. Now we are whirled 
along, in suffocating cars, three hundred 
miles instead of sixty in a day. Not a 
muscle has been called into action, not a 
draught of fresh air has been inhaled, 
no pleasant scenery has been enjoyed ; 
but, on the contrary, we have had night- 
mare visions of green fields, running 
brooks and sunny lakes, inextricably 
mixed up with deep cuts, dark tunnels, 
stfling bridges and repulsive stations, 
with the same crowd, apparently, of 
from thirty ito one hundred idlers doing 
the " heavy loafing" of the whole town, 
waiting for they know not what. We 
are set down at our destination, and the 
hotel stage takes us and the ladies' large 
traveling trunks to our modern inn, with 
numerous waiters, large fees and few 
real comforts. Nervous, weary and 
nauseated, without appetite, without pa- 
tience, without satisfaction of any kind, 
we retire to toss through the dreary 
night with excited nerves, aching limbs 
and horrible dreams. Surely the world 
does move. We save time but lose rest. 
Traveling does not recruit but wearies 
us. Take this little picture and study it. 
An eminent English physician says that 
the daily travelers who go out and into 
London every day, on the cars, grow old 
and decrepit sooner than any other class 
of men with whom he is acquainted. 



Fifty years ago the prosperous Xew 
Hampshire store-keeper, manufacturer 
or farmer was accustomed to add to his 
conveniences of living what was then 
called a bellows-topped chaise, with two 
wheels. After planting in the spring, or 
haying in the summer, the ,; fore-hand- 
ed'* farmer and his wife, in their new 
chaise, with a. small trunk strapped to 
the axle, went across the country, or to 
another State, to visit relatives. They 
drove at leisure forty or fifty miles a day, 
eujoyed the cool air, the bright sun and 
the delightful scenery. At noon they 
dined at the old-fashioned inn. with all 
the varieties of the kitchen and the pro- 
ductions of the season for twenty-five 
cents each, and the horse enjoyed his 
hay and oats for the" same sum. At even- 
ing they were received with open arms 
and warm embraces by kind friends. 
Here they spent the joyful days of visit- 
ing in sweet intercourse, pleasant drives 
and hearty, happy entertainments. Life 
was domestic in those days. Men lived 
at home and took care of their families; 
now they live abroad and serve the pub- 
lic. The old mail stage from Concord 
set down its living freight at Elm Street 
in Boston, after a whole day's ride, for 
about the same fare that is now paid on 
the cars. There the traveller was served 
with the best products of the season for 
one dollar a day. Kecently I paid five 
dollars a day at the Parker House for a 
room. The price of a chicken-bone was 
one dollar, and everything else in pro- 
portion. Truly the world moves! The 
number that move on the cars among an 
equal population is ten-fold greater than 
in 1830. Sitting, the other day, in a 
crowded car, with my friend, Judge Xes- 
mith, I asked him if it was probable that 
the people had turned out to see one of 
us, as they did to see Gen. Grant. He 
replied that it was as cheap living on the 
cars as anywhere, and therefore people 
traveled. But whence comes the money 
to pay the bills? From 1830 to 1SG0 
farmers and manufacturers acquired 
property very rapidly. Fifty years ago 
many a New Hampshire boy commenced 
business in our cities, in a single room, 
on a capital of a few hundred dollars. 
Now he must pay from one to three thou- 

sand dollars rent for a room ! I know at 
least six Xew Hampshire men in St. 
Louis, who began business in that hum- 
ble way, who now count their money by 
hundreds of thousands, possibly by mill- 
ions. Xo enterprising young man can 
do so now. Fifty years ago only two 
millionaires, in trade, were mentioned — 
Win. Gray of Boston and Stephen Girard 
of Philadelphia. Xow the same cities 
have scores of shoddy millionaires. 
Three men in Xew York can coutrol the 
finances of the commercial emporium of 
country. They have done it. An aris- 
tocracy of wealth is as burdensome and 
oppressive as an aristocracy of birth. 
Wealth has nominally increased during 
the last twenty years. It is due solely 
to the depreciation of our paper money 
and the unnatural and unhealthy rise of 
real estate, and the consequent exorbi- 
tant prices of produce and manufactures. 
Our wealth has accumulated precisely as 
the covetous Frenchman's did, who 
made, in one morning, ten thousand dol- 
lars by marking up his goods. The peo- 
ple are poorer than they were twenty 
years ago by all the money and time ex- 
pended during the war, and by the im- 
mense national debt that remained at its 
close ; and, while our country may be 
adding a thousand millions annually to 
our capital, it will require the utmost 
skill in our rulers to preserve the nation 
from bankruptcy. This is fact, not fic- 
tion. We must pay honestly and punc- 
tually every farthing of the national 
debt. This must ultimately come from 
the soil, and till paid, will remain a sore 
burden upon our industry. Besides her 
share of the national debt, and of the 
State debt, Xew Hampshire owes, in the 
form of town and county debts, several 
millions more. Some flippant dema- 
gogues tell us this is a mere bagatelle. 
We can pay it any time. " Any time," 
says the proverb, " is no time at all." 
Did you ever know of any people in any 
age who did not want to use what wealth 
they had? Did you everhear of a state 
or nation that took pleasure in paying 
old debts? We have grown reckless, ex- 
travagant andiCriminal in consequence of 
collecting and using freely large sums of 
money during the war. We talk of mill- 



ions now where we used to speak cau- 
tiously of thousands. In 1830, Xew 
Hampshire held a Constitutional Conven- 
tion which cost the State about 835,000. 
Xo Legislature for years dared increase 
the State tax so as to pay that debt. I 
doubt if it was paid when the rebellion 
came upon us, though I have no knowl- 
edge upon that point. Xow Ave raise 
from four to five hundred thousand dol- 
lars annually to defray State expenses, 
and twice that sum to pay local expenses 
and interest on town debts. To salaried 
men, who have little increase of means 
with large increase of expenses, the tax- 
es are burdensome. Tliey are growing 
poorer, whoever else is enriched. 

To argue the decline of public morali- 
ty during the last fifty years would be a 
work of supererogation. As I cannot 
demonstrate this from my own experi- 
ence, I must refer you to the dockets of 
our courts and the over-populous condi- 
tion of our State prison. Crime, like the 
king's prerogative, in Revolutionary 
times, " has increased, is increasing, and 
ought to be diminished." But Xew 
Hampshire has " no bad eminence " in 
this particular. Her records are even 
less blotted than those of sister States. 
Some years ago the Hon. Mr. Mills, a 
distinguished lawyer and United States 
Senator from Massachusetts, remarked 
to Judge Parker that some fifty years 
ago crime was so rare in that State that 
a violator of the law was looked upon as 
a prodigy. He recollected a man being 
arrested for assault, not an aggravated 
case, and as the constable conveyed him 
to the court for that the people turned 
out en masse by the wayside to see a pris- 
oner led to the office of a county justice. 
It was a sight so strange that their curi- 
osity was aroused to the highest pitch to 
gaze upon a man who had the hardihood 
to violate a law of the commonwealth. 
A murder in those days was as rare as a 
comet, and both were regarded with 
horror. A bold blasphemer was looked 
upon with apprehension, lest the judg- 
ments of Heaven should fall upon the 
community that tolerated such a wretch. 
The sentiment with reference to crimin- 
als was aptly represented by a pompous 
little official in my native town. It was, 

in early times, customary to warn such 
persons to leave the town, that they 
might not gain a residence in it. This 
was a legal provision. In the case of a 
notorious thief, the little constable 
sought the culprit, and. before witnesses, 
said : " I warn you off the town's terri- 
ritory ; and. moreover, I warn you off the 
face of God's earth ! " 

'* Action is the end of thought ; but 
to act justly and effectively, you must 
think wisely. Xo man can pass through 
his allotted term of years — least of all 
can the wealthier classes do so — without 
X>rofiting by the fruit of other men's toil. 
All capital is accumulated labor. A scru- 
pulous and high-minded man will always 
feel that to pass out of the world in the 
world's debt, to have consumed much 
and produced nothing, is to sit down, as 
it were, at the world's feast, and not to 
have paid his reckoning ; and hence even 
he who lives at ease will be anxious to 
replace to the public the expenditure of 
labor that has been made upon him." 
Every man is a debtor to his calling. 
Every citizen is a debtor to the State. 
Every student is a debtor to the institu- 
tion that gave him culture. The Master 
says : " Work while the day lasts ; occu- 
py till I come." All men are striving to 
better their condition. Most young per- 
sons are aspiring to enter that ,w paradise 
of fools " where the men have nothing to 
do and the women nothing to wear, but 
he only will achieve true success in the 
estimation of the Searcher of Hearts, 
who labors with his hands and head, not 
for himself but for others. 

•• Life is before ye ; 
A sacred burden to that life ye bear. 
Look on't, lift it, bear it solemnly, 
Stand up, walk under it steadfastly. 
Fail not for sorrow, falter not for sin; 
Onward and upward till the goal ye win." 

Our country, with all its faults, is the 
best of eartly. Every State has its at- 
tractions. Those of Xew Hampshire I 
have endeavord to portray. It is a good 
State to live in. Cherish it, commend 
it, love it. as your own dear foster 
mother. Recall the great men and good 
institutions it has produced. I can re- 
member the day and year when I could 
enter our Supreme Court and find such 



men as Judge Smith, Judge Livermore 
and Judge Richardson upon its bench; 
and I have seen at the same bar Mason, 
the Websters, Bartlett and Woodbury. 
The entire country, aye, the whole world, 
cannot boast of jurists and orators supe- 
rior to those Xew Hampshire has pro- 
duced. Xo state in the Union has acad- 
emies superior to those of Xew Hamp- 
shire. Do you ask for proof of this as- 
sertion? Go to Meriden and Exeter, and 
then visit Xew Hampton, and from the 
mouths of two or three such witnesses 
every word shall be established. I close 
my somewhat protracted remarks on so- 
cial changes in Xew Hampshire during 
the past century with a little poem cop- 
ied from the Xew England Fanner : 


" now wondrous are the changes, Jim, 

Since twenty years ago, 
When gals wore woolen dresses, Jim, 

And boys wore pants of tow ; 
When shoes were made of calf- skin, 

And socks of home-spun wool, 
And children did a half-day's work 

Before the hour for school. 

The girls took music lessons, Jim, 

Upon the spinning-wheel, 
And practiced late and early, Jim, 

On spindle, swift and reel; 

The boys would ride bare-backed to mill, 

A dozen miles or so, 
And hurry off before 'twas day, 

Some twenty years ago. 

The people rode to meeting, Jim, 

In sleds instead of sleighs, 
And wagons rode as easy, Jim, 

As buggies now-a-days ; 
And oxen answered well for teams, 

Though now they'd be too slow, 
For people lived not half so fast, 

Some twenty years ago. 

Oh, well do I remember, Jim, 

That Wilson's patent stove, 
That father bought and paid for, Jim, 

In cloth our gals had wove ; 
And how the neighbors wondered, 

When we got the thing to go ; 
They said 'twould " bust " and kill us all, 

Some twenty years ago. 

Yes; everything is different, Jim, 

From what it used to was, 
For men are always tampering, Jim, 

With God's great natural laws; 
But what on earth we're coming too, 

Does anybody know? 
For everything has changed so much 

Since twenty years ago. 




The erring youth to pray is taught, 

Ere scarce begun 
Is life, that, older growing, naught 

Bnt strength is won ; 
Yet, blindly groping for the light, 
Bedim so many clouds the sight, 
That prays he only when 'tis bright 

"Thy will be done." 

Calmly a man the wreck surveys 

Of his dear home ; 
With swelling soul his God to praise 

He seeks the dome : 
Will other gods the ashen waste 
Disturb, and rule a mind so chaste? 
By fire purified that taste 

No more shall roam ! 

Silent the aged mother weeps — 

The last has flown ; 
Yet she a faithful watchword keeps 

And prays alone. 
Prays for the wild aud wayward one, 
Prays for another straying son — 
She ever prays " Thy will be done, 

Thy blood atone ! " 

With glowing zeal to God we go 

In daily prayer. 
In faith, sometimes, on Him we throw 

All grief, all care. 
How small that faith is, in the knell 
Of death is pictured, as the fell 
Destroyer, at the mouth of hell 

Awaits with snare ! 

Manchester, X. H., Sept. 6, 1877. 




Although the Roman Catholic Church, 
like" most other religious organizations, 
has generally sought to extend and 
strengthen its dominion by means of 
temporal nevertheless, through- 
out the greater part of its history, has 
claimed as one of its fundamental rights 
that all churchmen should he exempt 
from the criminal jurisdiction of secular 
courts. This claim was encouraged by 
several of the Roman emperors, and 
many of the states founded upon the 
ruins of the empire acknowledged it and 
submitted to it; but in England it was 
stoutly resisted for centuries. 

About the year 1150, the struggle be- 
tween the English government and the 
Church reached its crisis. A priest, hav- 
ing ruined a young lady of noble birth, 
had murdered her father. The king de- 
manded that he should be delivered up 
for trial. The bishops and clergy said : 
u No ; this is our business ; we will try our 
brother, and, if we find him guilty, we 
will punish him with our disapproval, 
with spiritual censure, and with pains 
and penances. " They concealed the 
priest and resisted the officers of the law 
sent to arrest him. Troops were sent 
against them and were repulsed, and at 
length the king confiscated their estates 
for rebellion. Then down came the thun- 
derbolt of Rome, excommunicating him 
and his followers from Holy Church, de- 
claring them outlaws from the human 
race, and consigning their souls to eter- 
nal hell. The king bowed his head and 
trembled. The great leader of the cler- 
gy, the Archbishop of Canterbury, re- 
turned from exile. All lovers of Holy 
Church, priest and monk, men, women 
and children, all ranks and all ages, 
poured forth to meet him. and to cele- 
brate with hymns of joy his triumphant 
entrance. Four days afterward, at the 
desire of the king, as it is supposed, he 
was assassinated at the foot of his altar. 

11 From the time of his death it was be- 
lieved that miracles were worked at his 
tomb ; thither flocked hundreds of thou- 
sands in spite of the most violent threats 
of punishment; at the end of two years 
he was canonized at Rome, and until the 
breaking out of the Reformation, Saint 
Thomas of Canterbury, for pilgrimages 
and prayers, was the most distinguished 
saint in England." 

Thus, by the life, leadership and death 
of Saint Thomas a Becket, one of the 
ablest and boldest prelates of his- 
tory, the germ of what is known in law 
&s Benefit of Clergy was firmly planted in 
England. Persons in holy orders, per- 
sons in " immediate intercourse with 
divinity, were not to be judged by pro- 
fane judgments, sentenced by profane 
mouths, or touched in any manner un- 
pleasant to them by profane hands," 
whatever crimes they might commit. 
This was the first step. 

In course of time, claimants for this 
privilege became so numerous, and it be- 
came so difficult to draw the lines of de- 
markation between the 'regular clergy 
and persons having clerical duties aud 
functions, that Parliament enacted [25 
Edward III., §3, C. 4.] that " all man- 
ner of clerks, as well secular as religious, 
which shall be from henceforth convict 
before the secular justices for any trea- 
sons or felonies touching other persons 
than the king himself or his royal majes- 
ty, shall from henceforth freely have and 
enjoy the privilege of Holy Church, and 
shall be, without any impeachment or 
delay, delivered to the ordinaries de- 
manding them." This was step number 

But it often happened that clerks, both 
religious and secular (for secular clerks 
had a semi-religious character), were ad- 
mitted to office without any written evi- 
dence of ordination. Written evidence, 
too, might be forged or lost ; but there 



was a test which, in those dark ages, 
when few except clergymen could read, 
could scarcely fail. If the prisoner could 
read, he was deemed a clerk at the very 
least, and was set at liberty. This was 
English law for many hundred years, 
and during all these centuries the crim- 
inal code was growing more and more 
bloody, until inBlackstone's time, a hun- 
dred years ago, the number of distinct 
crimes punishable icith death was upwards 
of one hundred and sixty. Very many of 
them were within Benefit of Clergy. To 
steal a pocket handkerchief of the value 
of thirteen pence was a capital crime* — 
unless the thief could read the command, 
,"Thou shalt not steal!" A hundred 
years ago a poor old woman was hung 
for taking one cabbage from a field. If 
she had been learned in the technicalities 
of the law [Blackstone, Book IV, Page 
231] as established by ;; a subtilty in the 
legal notions of our ancestors,*' she 
would have pulled up and carried away a 
growing cabbage. In that case the cab- 
bage would have "savored of the real- 
ty," and the act would have been a civil 
trespass and no crime. But unfortunate- 
ly she was not aware of this important 
distinction, and so she carried away a 
cabbage that had already been pulled, a 
cabbage that had lost its " savor of the 
realty," and was lying upon the ground. 
By so doing she committed grand lar- 
ceny, " the punishment of which is reg- 
ularly death," and, as she could not read, 
she w T as hung.f The ignorant man, who 
stole thirteen-pence worth of bread, was 
hung; the educated scoundrel walked as 
free as many a moneyed scoundrel does 
to-day, not, as now, by evading the law, 
but by direct command of the law, for 
the law was gracious and long-suffering 

" in favor of one possessed of so rare and 
valuable a qualification." This was law 
in Old England— and in New England, 
tooj — in the good old time, not very long 

A long while after the test of ability to 
read was established, another distinction 
was made. Educated criminals, not be- 
ing punishable, had become so numerous 
and appeared in court so often, that Par- 
liament enacted [4 Henry VII., C. 13] 
that persons who were not clergymen 
should have Benefit of Clergy only once, 
and that a mark should be set upon them 
by branding in the thumb, or otherwise, 
that they might be known. The statute 
expressly provided that real clergymen, 
in holy orders, should not be marked in 
the hand, and that they should have Ben- 
efit of Clergy as often as they might com- 
mit crime.]] 

In the reign preceding that in which 
the last named statute was passed, there 
was a ruling of court rather inconven- 
ient for educated criminals, and not alto- 
gether consistent with their state and 
dignity. It was that Clergy should not 
be pleaded until after conviction. Now. 
on conviction the prisoner's goods and 
chattels were forfeited to the king, and 
not only that, but if the prisoner had 
stolen A's property, A's property was 
also forfeited to the king, unless A made 
fresh pursuit and assumed the expense 
of prosecution. But Benefit of Clergy 
operated as a full and free pardon. " All 
this is very true," said a sarcastic law- 
yer, " but as to your property, the king, 
you hear, has got it, and wiien the king 
has got hold of a man's property, with 
title or without title, such is his royal no- 
tion that he cannot bear to part with it ; 
for ' the king can do no wrong,' § and 

* "The punishment of grand larceny, or the stealing ahove the value of twelve pence— which sum 
was the standard in the time of King Athelstan, eight hundred years ago — is at common law regu- 
larly death— which law continues in force to this day." Blackstone, Book IV, Page 2.37. 

f As late as 1«76, in the same town, an old man was sentenced to six months in the house of cor- 
rection lor the very same oileuse— stealing a single cahbage. 

XI am indebted to the research and courtesy of George Ramsdell, Esq., Clerk of Court of Hills- 
borough County, for a copy which I made of the court records for that county of the trial of Israel 
Wilkins of Hollis for the murder of his father, in 1772- The following is a part of it :— •' It being de- 
manded of the said Israel Wilkins why sentence of death should not be passed upon him, the said 
Israel Wilkins prayed the Benefit of Clergy, which was granted." 

|| Even if tried, they could seldom he convicted. By the. Canon Law the guilt of a Cardinal charged 
with incontinence could be established by no less than seven eye-witnesses; for "the proofs against 
a clergyman ought to be much clearer than against a layman." A/litte, Par. 448. 

§ "The king can do no wrong. The law ascribes to the king absolute perfection. * * The king, 
moreover, is not only incapable of doing wrong, but even of thinking wrong; he can never mean to 
do an improper tiling; in him is no folly or weakness." Bkickstonc, Book 1, Page 2-KJ. 



4 the law is the quintessence of justice.'" 
By the statute of 2S Henry VIII., C. 15, 
Benefit of Clergy was taken away from 
all offenses committed on the high seas. 
Under this statute, if a man owning real 
estate to the value of millions, but no 
personal property, had stolen goods to 
the amount of thirteen pence, when he 
was three miles from the mainland, or 
any headland thereof, or any bay or arm 
or inlet of the sea. he would have been 
hung, his lands would have been forfeit- 
ed to the crown, and his family would 
have been left to beg or starve, or steal 
and be hung themselves. If, however, 
the crime had been committed at any 
distance less than three miles from the 
mainland, or any headland thereof, or 
any bay or arm or inlet of the sea, then 
the offender would not have been pun- 
ishable either in person or estate — pro- 
vided that he could read. 

The Benefit of Clergy that we have 
considered is that which ordinary peo- 
ple enjoyed, people of the middle class. 
It was rendered almost a dead letter by the 

statute of 5 Anne, C. 6, and was finally 
abolished in 1S27 — except as to noble- 

1 Edward VI., C. 12, provided that 
" any Lord or Lords of Parliament, to 
include Archbishops and Bishops and 
any Peer or Peers of the realm, having 
place or voice in the Parliament, being 
convicted of anj' - of the said offenses, 
[house-breaking by day or night, high- 
way robbery, horse-stealing, robbing 
churches, etc.] for the first time, upon 
his or their request or prayer, though he 
cannot read, be allowed Benefit of Cler- 
gy, aud be discharged without any burn- 
ing in the hand, loss of inheritance or 
corruption of blood.'' 

After occupying a prominent place in 
English law for more than seven hun- 
dred years, Benefit of Clergy has at 
length become a thing of the past. Since 
Victoria came to the throne, and since 
the trial of Lord Cardigan, it has been 
formally abolished as to noblemen. — E. 
P. Dole. 



" Goodbye, sister ! I shall be glad 
when I go to work again, so I can ac- 
company you every morning. It is a 
long dreary walk for you to take alone." 

11 1 do not find it so, Frank. I enjoy it 
very much, though of course I like your 
company. Good morning;" and, turn- 
ing, the young girl walked away in the 
direction of the village whose church 
spires one could just discern above the 
trees in the distance, while her compan- 
ion, a lad perhaps fourteen or sixteen 
years of age, retraced his steps to the lit- 
tle white cottage, evidently their home. 

She was not beautiful, this heroine of 
mine, scarcely pretty, even, and yet 
there was a '• nameless something " about 
her that would attract one's attention 
even in the midst of those who laid claim 

to far greater personal charms. Her hair 
was brown, so dark as to be nearly black ; 
her eyes were dark grey. She was not 
tall, but singularly graceful in every 
movement. Indeed, Esther Arlington 
was just what she seemed, modest and 
gentle, and consequently respected by 
all who knew her. Her father had died 
when she was twelve years old, leaving 
her mother with two children, herself 
and a brother, younger by several years. 
They were far from being wealthy, and 
therefore a3 soon as Esther became old 
enough she was obliged to look about in 
search of some means of earning a liveli- 

Fortunately, she secured an excellent 
situation as saleswoman in a dry goods 
store in the large and thriving village of 



N , only a mile distant from her 

home. For three years previous to the 
opening of our story, she had, day after 
day, with but few exceptions, wended 
her way from her home in the cosy little 
cottage beside the river along the unfre- 
quented road that led to the village. 
There was but one building between her 
home and the village, and a more lonely, 
dreary old mansion could hardly be 
imagined than this. 

Esther could not remember its ever 
having been occupied, but there it stood, 
gradually falling in pieces — that is, the 
out-buildings, the main portion being in 
decent repair as yet. There was some- 
thing about the old mansion that had a 
strange attraction for Esther, and she 
used often to staud by the old gate 
which led to it and wonder who had for- 
merly lived there and why it had so long 
been deserted. To be sure, there were 
strange stories of its being haunted, but 
Esther was a strong-minded young lady 
and believed none of them. 

It was a lovely morning* in October. 
The forests, as far as the eye could reach, 
seemed literally ablaze with the many- 
hued robes of autumn. The road was 
carpeted with fallen leaves, and as Esther 
stepped blithely along it seemed to her 
that she had never before seen nature 
one-half so beautiful. She was a great 
admirer of nature as well as of art, and 
as she walked she often stopped to se- 
cure some of the prettiest of the fallen 
leaves, until she had secured quite a bou- 
quet of them. As she reached the old 
gate opposite the mansion, she paused, 
and, seating "herself upon a moss-grown 
rock, proceeded to arrange her bouquet. 
She was quite early and had plenty of 
time, so she worked leisurely, her 
thoughts dwelling upon the beauties 
which surrounded her. At leugth she 
arose, and as she did so she turned her 
face toward the mansion, and an excla- 
mation of surprise escaped her lips, 
for from one of its many chimneys she 
could plainly discern smoke issuing. She 
rubbed her eyes, as if to assure herself 
it was no optical illusion, paused a mo- 
ment, and after consulting her watch, 
drew the rusty bolt which fastened the 
dilapidated gate, and swinging it opeu, 

entered the pathway, overgrown witli 
weeds and thistles, and walked resolute- 
ly up towards the mansion. As she drew 
near, a murmur of voices reached her 
ear, followed by a burst of childish laugh- 
ter, so near by as to startle her, and turn- 
ing her head, she saw seated upon the 
ground two children, the elder apparent- 
ly ten or twelve, the younger three or 
four years of age. 

They had woven together some of the 
autumn leaves so as to form a chain two 
or three yards in length, and this they had 
wound around a large Newfoundland 
dog who stood eyeing his tormentors iu 
perfect good humor. 

As Esther approached, his quick ear 
caught the sound of her footsteps, and 
with a low growl he bounded quickly 
toward her. 

11 Down, Nero, down, sir! Don't touch 
him, please!" cried the eldest child in 
alarm, as Esther quietly maintained her 
ground, at the same time reaching out 
her hand and stroking the dog kindly 
upon his head. 

u He is very cross to strangers, lady; 
do not touch him, please,'' she repeated, 
as the dog continued to growl and eye 
the new comer distrustfully. 

" What is your name, my dear?" said 
Esther, turning to the youngest girl, who 
stood clinging to her sister's hand. That 
they were ^sisters one, could tell at a 
glance, for there was a strong resem- 
blance between them. 

" Susie Lane," lisped the child bash- 

u Do you live here, Susie?" she next 

"Ess, I dess so; don't we, Bessie?" 
inquired the child. 

The dog, evidently assured that no 
harm was intended the children, had 
walked slowly away and stretched him- 
self lazily beneath a tall pine which stood 
near. It was a picture for an artist. The 
dilapidated mansion in the background, 
the large, magnilicent trees of oak, ma- 
ple, and the solitary pine, the sweet-faced 
children, dressed in snowy white, their 
short, golden curls kissed by the morn- 
ing breeze, and the young lady quietly 
regarding them. 

w Will you tell me who vou are and 



where you came from? " said Esther, ad- 
dressing the eldest, whom Susie had 
called Bessie. A flush passed over the 
girl's face. 

u Papa says it is rude in me to ask 
questions, and 1 think it rude in you, 
also," said Bessie warmly. 

"You are right," said Esther, "it was 
rude in me. I will go now — goodbye," 
and turning she hastened down the path. 
She had nearly reached the gate when 
she heard a step near her, and turning 
quickly she encountered a gentleman who 
was rapidly approaching the pathway. 
He carried a gun over one shoulder, 
while in one hand were two partridges, 
which he had evidently just shot. He 
seemed somewhat surprised at the sight 
of a young lady there, hut bowed polite- 
ly and passed on towards the house. 
Esther passed through the gate, which 
she closed and bolted after her, and then 
hurried on to her destination. 

" Well, this is really quite an adven- 
ture," she said to herself. " Who can 
they be, and why have they selected that 
lonely old house for a home? Bessie is 
a remarkable child, to be sure. She 
thought I was rude, and I suppose I was. 
Who would have thought of any one liv- 
ing there? I hope we shall learn more 
of them." 

All day long Esthers thoughts were 
more upon the old house and its strange 
occupants than upon her work, and when 
five o'clock came she hurried eagerly 
homeward in the hope that she might 
learn more of them, but all was silent, 
and everything looked as it had done 
month after month and year after year 
before. She was almost tempted to be- 
lieve that she had fallen asleep and 
dreamed it all. 

" You are early to-night, Esther," said 
her mother, as she entered the little sit- 
ting-room, where a tempting supper was 
in readiness. 

" Yes, I hurried home to tell you the 
news," she replied, as she seated herself 
at the table. " Such a surprise as 1 had 
this morning, Frank, after 1 left you," 
and she proceeded to relate her adven- 
ture, not forgetting to repeat Bessie's 
gage remark. Mrs. Arlington, a slender, 
"worn-out" looking woman, listened 

quietly to the story, making no remarks 
until Esther had concluded, then she 

"And the gentleman, what was he 
like, my dear?" 

But Esther had only noticed that he 
was tall and dark, and that was all she 
could tell concerning him. 

" Well, it will be pleasant for us, if 
they prove to be good neighbors," said 
her mother. 

The days passed on. Whoever and 
whatever the new comers at the mansion 
were, they kept entirely aloof from every 
one. Excursion parties called, but saw 
no one except the servant, an elderly 
woman, who appeared to be exceedingly 

To Esther's highly romantic nature 
the old house now seemed doubly at- 
tractive, and she never passed the gate 
without pausing and looking up the path- 
way, in the vain hope of again seeing the 
two children. At length, one cold morn- 
ing in December, she saw standing near 
the gate, upon the inner side, little Susie, 
with Nero close by her side. There had 
been a light fall of snow the day before, 
and the only tracks down the walk were 
those made by the child and dog. Esther 
turned and approached the child, bidding 
her good morning. 

"I run a way, I did," said Susie, looking 
up with a bright smile. 

"Why did you run away, Susie? 
Where is Bessie?" 

" Bessie with papa ; papa sick. Come, 
Nero, we go back now. Goodbye, lady," 
and turning, the child ran swiftly up the 
walk, the dog bounding joyfully by her 

Esther paused for a moment, and then 
she opened the gate, though not without 
some difficulty, and hastened after the 
child. Susie, not knowing that Esther 
was following her, sped onward until she 
reached the house. She pushed open the 
ponderous outside door and hurried up 
the long stairway, her foot-falls echoing 
through the empty rooms/ She was met 
at the top of the stairs by the servant, 
who led her into a room opening at the 
right. Upon the bed at the farther ex- 
tremity of the room reclined Mr. Lane. 
By his side sat Bessie, bathing his head.. 



As Susie entered and approached the 
bed, he opened his eyes and reached 
forth his hand and drew the child to his 

tk My poor children/' he said sadly, 
u what will become of you if I am taken 
away?"' . 

"Oh, papa! Flease let me go for a 
doctor. I kuow he would make you 
well," said Bessie betweeu her sobs. 

A sad smile passed over her fathers 
face, and for several moments the silence 
remained unbroken except by Bessie's 
sobs. At length the gentleman spoke. 
* " Bessie, you may go to the village for 
a physician if you wish. Wrap yourself 
up warmly and return as soon as possi- 
ble. One kiss, dear — there, go, and God 
guard you.'"' 

He sank back upon the pillow and 
closed his eyes. Susie, at a sign from 
her sister, took the vacant seat at his 
side, while Bessie glided noiselessly from 
the room. A surprise awaited her, for 
as she sped down the long stairway she 
saw Esther standing by the outer door. 

44 Why are you here? " she demanded, 
as Esther came forward to meet her. 

" To see if I can render you any assist- 
ance, Bessie. Susie told me your papa 
was ill," returned Esther gently. 

44 Will you tell me where I can find a 
physician?*' asked the girl in a subdued 
tone of voice. 

^'I will go with you, my dear," re- 
turned Esther, as she helped wrap the 
girl in a nice woolen shawl which she 
procured from a closet close at hand, and 
together they left the house and hurried 
onward toward the village. 

When they arrived there, Esther sought 
Dr. Neal, an old and experienced physi- 
cian, and leaving Bessie in his care, has- 
tened to her daily task. 

As the days passed on Esther occasion- 
ally heard from Mr. Lane by the doctor, 
who seemed somewhat puzzled in regard 
to his malady. At length, one morning, 
Dr. Neal met her just outside the village. 
As soon as he saw her, he stopped his 
horse and greeted her with a cheerful 
''good morning." He anticipated her 
usual question b} r declaring that Mr. 
Lane was no better, aud he added : 

14 What is worse, Bessie, who has been 

a most indefatigable little nurse, was 
taken ill last night. I don't know what 
to think of it. We have a council of 
physicians, to-day, however, and 1 hope 
we shall discover the cause of his strange 
sickness. By the way, Esther, do you 
know of any one I could get to go there 
as nurse?" 

" I will go, if you wish me to," she re- 

11 But how can you leave the store? " 
he inquired. 

•'Frank cau take my place for a few 
days or weeks, as the case may be. I 
will be at the mansion in two hours," 
said Esther, as she hurried away. 

Two hours later she took her place at 
the bedside of Bessie. The child knew 
her and welcomed her warmly, but the 
servant, Margaret, as Bessie called her, 
eyed her with marked dislike. There 
was something about the old woman that 
repelled Esther at first sight, and when, 
that afternoon, Dr. Neal took Esther one 
side and told her that they had not suc- 
ceeded in determining the nature of the 
disease, her mind was made up at once 
to the effect that there was foul play 
somewhere, and she resolved to watch 
closely. She said nothing, for she knew 
just how much her opinion would be 
thought worth by the learned physicians. 
As time passed on, Bessie grew better 
daily. Not one drop of medicine had she 
taken, however, while Mr. Lane hourly 
grew worse, and at length Esther de- 
termined to make known her suspicions 
whenever the doctor paid his next visit. 
That evening, hearing a slight noise in 
Mr. Lane's room, which adjoined Bes- 
sie's, she cautiously approached the door 
and, peering through the key-hole, she 
saw Margaret drop a tiny powder into a 
glass of water, aud then approach the 
patient, and, lifting his head from the 
pillow, seemed about to place the glass 
to his lips. Esther opened wide the door 
and entered the room, and approaching 
the woman, said quietly, " How is your 
patient this evening ? " At the same time 
she adroitly managed to knock the giaS3 
from the woman's hand. 

Margaret turned upon her, her eyes 
blazing, her form trembling with rage 
and fear. Esther stood calmly before 



her, not a muscle of her face betraying 
the least fear, and yet she was alone in 
the house with a woald-be murderess 
and her victims, too far away from any 
one to summon assistance. 

Mr. Lane looked as if he were dead, 
and Esther judged rightly that she had 
been just in season to prevent his re- 
ceiving the final dose. Just at that mo- 
ment the welcome sound of the doctor's 
well-known voice was heard in the hall 
below. Margaret turned to flee, but 
Esther caught her and held her firmly, 
at the same time calling for help. All 
t his happened in less time than we have 
taken to tell it. and ten minutes later 
Margaret was divested of her disguise 
and bound firmly. She was, in appear- 
ance, somewhere in the vicinity of thirty 
years of age, a tall, dark, exceedingly 
handsome woman. 

Mr. Lane had taken no notice of the 
commotion, but Bessie had left her room 
at the first cry for help, and stood gazing 
in surprise and fear at the woman. 

Wk Do you know her, Bessie?" asked 
the doctor. 

" It is my aunt Clem. ; but take her 
away quickly," cried the child, evincing 
so much fear of her that no further proof 
of the woman's guilt was needed in the 
minds of her companions. She was taken 
away the next morning and lodged in 
the county jail, there to await her trial 
at the next term of court. 

Antidotes were administered to Mr. 
Lane at once, but he was very low, al- 
most at the very gates of death. By the 
doctor's advice, and Bessie's desire, Mrs. 
Arlington, Esther and Frank readily as- 
sented to take up their abode at the man- 
sion, Esther resuming her work in the 
store now that Bessie no longer needed 
her services, but she was warmly at- 
tached to the child, and her affection was 
more than returned. Mr. Lane gained 
slowly but surely, and in the month of 
May, at the advice of his physician — who 
could not sufficiently condemn his over- 
sight, which had so nearly been a fatal 
one— he resolved to travel for the com- 
plete restoration of his health. Bessie 
readily consented to remain with her 

kind friends, and Susie was too young to 
mind her father's absence. 

The night before his departure he re- 
lated for the first time the story of his 
life. Eis father had married for his sec- 
ond wife a young Italian, remarkable for 
her beauty, but possessing all the char- 
acteristics of her race. She had died in 
about two years after her marriage, leav- 
ing an infant daughter, who inherited her 
mother's cruel and revengeful disposi- 
tion. His father had lived until about a 
year previous to Mr. Lane's arrival at the 
mansion, and at his death had bequeathed 
his vast wealth to his son and his son's 
heirs, giving Clementine, his claughterby 
his second wife, only a small annuity. 
Soon after. Mr. Lane's wife was taken 
suddenly ill and died, and he. filled with 
grief at his bereavement, and wishing to 
take his children from the baleful influ- 
ence which his sister exerted over them, 
had sought for and found this old man- 
sion house, which was a portion of his 
estate. He had departed secretly with 
his children and one servant, resolved 
that his sister should not know of his 
whereabouts. At a wayside inn his ser- 
vant had died suddenly of what the phy- 
sician pronounced heart disease, and in 
her place he had taken the woman who 
had proved to be his sister. He had lived 
in seclusion for the simple reason stated 
above. He had never entertained a sus- 
picion that Margaret was other than 
what she had seemed. He now believed 
her to be the cause of his wife's, and also 
of his servant's, death. His vast wealth 
would have been hers, had she succeed- 
ed in her cruel design. 


Two years have passed ere we re- 
sume our story. Mr. Lane had returned 
six months previously, entirely restored 
to health. His sister had committed sui- 
cide in jail just before her trial was to 
have taken place. 

Esther and her mother returned to the 
cottage immediately after Mr. Lane's re- 
turn home, but report says that Esther 
is soon to go back to the mansion — which 
is being entirely renovated — as its hon- 
ored mistress. 





Night came down upon us with all the 
beauty of a New England summer twi- 
light ; it was starry, and the moon was 
coming ; the dashing stream down yonder 
in the glen made wild music, — sad to- 
night, but it was the same voice that 
lulled us to sweet slumber in childhood. 
and we now listened with a like charmed 

I said its tones were sorrowful to- 
night : not that they were different from 
usual, for you know there is always a 
strange connection between the beauti- 
ful and the sad, and then, too, this was 
the last of our too brief stay among the 
hills. On the morrow we should leave 
for our later and western home, and fare- 
wells are, you know, seldom ever cheer- 

We listened awhile to the wild dashing 
of the river as it went hurrying down the 
valley, on its way to the Connecticut and 
the sea, and then wandered out into the 
gathering stillness, toward the miniature 
lake among the mists upon the hillside. 

The moon was coming up the gorge 
beyond the wilds of " Wambeck Methua," 
and, outlined against the east, grand and 
rugged, behold the " Crystal Hills," with 
the glory of the moonlight resting upon 
their shaggy brows ; across the river, a 
silvery pathway goes shimmering from 
our feet until it hides itself among the 
lily-pads and wild grasses oJf the other 
shore ; half way up the northern slope, 
see now the receding shadows creeping 
over the roof and around the corners of 
the* cottage residence of Rev. Dr. W., 
and far away, on the summit, the " Moun- 
tain View House," outlined against the 
distant, blue, and, sentinel-like, overlook- 
ing forest, lake and river. 

Below us, in the valley now deep in 
fiha^e, but bright in its second growth of 
church and cottage, lies the village of 

Whitefiedd, abounding in family histories 
and rich in the monumental works of its 
sons and daughters of five generations. 

Sitting here 'mid dreamy solitudes, 
with the mountain streams, the wind 
among the hills and the murmuring pines, 
filling with music our listening soul, it 
would be vain to deny that our minds 
were filled with imaginary histories and 
time-hallowed legends of rocky cliff, lake 
and river, above, below and around us. 
Could the hills but have voices, could we 
but interpret the ancient inscriptions 
upon mossy mound and lichened rock, 
we should hear tales of romance and un- 
fold hidden mysteries of the past that 
would keep us listening until the autumn 
leaves rustled above our covering and 
the wild winds sang us lasting requiem. 

Did I ever disclose to you the bits of 
unwritten history which I have of this 
region? I cannot tell you where I be- 
came possessed or heard of them, but I 
find them lingering in my memory, like 
the mist upon yon mountain-side, uncer- 
tain and dreamy. I think I have given 
to you some scraps of them before; they 
floated in legendary form in the i; long 
ago,"' ere grandam Euzzell trimmed her 
distaff in the little cottage upon the bank 
above the lower ravine; in the years 
when yonder stream, untamed and free, 
ran over rock and shallow, through sin- 
uous ways and darkening solitudes, from 
its source among the glens of " Kah-wan- 
en-te " to the Connecticut rapids. 

1 nave told you, ere this, how a band 
of Indians from the wilds of the West 
once made this section their home and 
hunting-grounds, and gave to these hills 
and mountain-born streams and lovely, 
lake-like sheets of blue, names in their 
own musical tongue, expressive of some 
Inherent quality, natural beauty, or real 
or imaginary peculiarity, such as to you 



dashing river, still echoing the song of 
its noontide birth up where the ever- 
greens haug their shadows high and the 
clouds distil o'er granite cliffs. " Ah-ua- 
wau-da" it was called — "Waters born 
among the hills ;" and to this little gem 
of rare beauty, hidden then in the forests 
dark, fed by no rippling rills, but send- 
ing forth a laughing rivulet, scarcely 
known save by the sunlight and the star- 
ry wanderers, was given the name u Tse- 
ko-mo " — for the simple native, ** Where 
the white lilies grow." 
A radiant gem from God's right hand, 
Dropped in the midst of this mountain land. 

And there, just across the valley, is 
" Montgomery Pond;" even now you 
may see it shimmering in the moonlight, 
scarcely more than the glitter of a dia- 
mond or the glow-worm's misty light ; 
you can hear the laugh of its runaway 
waters, if you but listen, joined with 
those other down there where they meet. 
61 Os-so-\ve-wock " was its maiden name — 
" Where the wild partridge drums." 

And just a little beyond — so near that 
the murmur of its waves mingles with 
the voice of the western wind, deeply 
hidden among the evergreen woods, 
sparkles in the silvery sheen of the ris- 
ing moon the mirrored surface of w Round 
Pond' 1 — the i; Woon-es-qua" of the Indian 
hunter — " Among the pine shadows." 

Tradition fails not to tell that here the 
wild goose tarried and hatched among 
its solitudes her brood. From the moun- 
tains there came the red deer and the 
autlered moose to drink and to bathe in 
its depths, and to nibble the wild sedge 
along its shores ; here, too, the Indian 
lover " wooed and won his dusky mate." 

But you are asking why we are here — 
I had forgotten to intimate. We are on 
a pilgrimage to the land and graves of 
our forefathers ; to commune awhile with 
old memories and spirits of the past; 
therefore are we here. Pause and listen : 

We had come out upon the old stage 
route from Littleton through Whiterield, 
toward upper Coos, and we almost ex- 
pected to hear the familiar clattering of 
the wheels of the old Concord coach and 
the sharp crack of " Ike's" whip, as he 
came climbing the long hill, bringing the 
mail and a load of pleasure-seeking tour- 

ists into the up country, but we soon re- 
membered that years and the incursions 
of the railroad and steam whistle had 
driven that ancient, rollicking coach, 
along with its cheery driver, as they had 
the deer and other wild game, inland, 
among the mountain fastnesses, where 
the locomotive cometh not. 

The night was growing old, as, saun- 
tering, we looked down upon the village 
of W., nestling among the purple shad- 
ows of the dream-haunted vale. How 
the moonlight rested upon the hillsides 
and crept down and filled up the valley; 
how it enveloped ttfe white cottages of 
the villagers, and gathered in halos 
around the tall church spires, point- 
ing with taper fingers far away into 
the blue beyond; how holily it shone 
upon the grass-covered mouuds of the 
little graveyard at the foot of the hill. 

Venerable— as we count years — stands 
there still the old meeting house by the 
village green, humble and plain, but 
woven around with a cordon of memories, 
and guarding with faithful care the rest- 
ing-places of three generations, borne 
from its door to quiet sleep among the 

What power hath a moony night in 
summer to bring around the dead and 
buried forms of those we loved; familiar 
faces of friends of the long ago haunt us ; 
well remembered voices fill the air, and 
bright eyes of the unforgotten silent 
ones are gazing into ours. 

Some of the most vivid recollections of 
boyhood which I now recall are of that 
old meeting house down there and the 
good and pious men and matrons who 
came — yes, and still come, if we can 
hope, as some wiser than we do believe, 
that the spirits of the departed just may 
return to the scenes of their former joys 
— on every Sabbath morning, year after 
year, through summer's heat and win- 
ter's chill, to worship the memory of 
" The Son of Mary," and to listen to the 
words of grace and peace and wisdom, 
" droppings from the sanctuary," through 
the consecrated lips of those chosen 
"elders of Israel." 

I seem to see them now, those worthy 
ones, walking with dignified step up the 
broad aisle, and dividing themselves a©- 



cording to custom, like the sheep and 
the goats, one on the right hand the oth- 
er on the left of the quaint old pulpit — 
our mothers were on the right ; here was 
the seat of honor due to gray hairs by 
love and reverence; next, down the long 
unpainted slips, were ranged those of 
middle age and youth, women and maid- 
ens on the north side and the men facing 
them from the opposite ; while the boys' 
corner was just at your right as you en- 
tered the wide-open door, as many a 
rude mark and roughly carved name will 
show to this day upon the backs of the 
tell-tale seats. Here they were under 
the immediate eye of that stern old tith- 
ing-man, " Uncle Sam B." Do you not 
remember, boys, the threatening shake of 
that long cane of his, and how we were 
kept in awe of it and its austere posses- 
sor? But the order-making rod is laid 
away, and the kindly old man who wield- 
ed it in the name of the Lord has gone to 
his reward long since. In the fullness of 
time he, too, in his turn, was borne to 
his grave in the midst of those his own 
hands had digged — for his were the spade 
and mattock, too, and for years here he 
had helped to ''gather them in." 

Do you reeollect the good Deacon 
Johnson, with his bent form and trem- 
bling gait, but a happy smile upon his 
face and a heart brimming full of love 
and charity? Full of years, he went 
away, mourned by children and grand- 
children and all who knew him. Two 
generations of his have since joined him 
over there, and I have no doubt that 
there their voices unite in songs or joy, 
even as here we heard them singing the 
songs of Zion in the choirs of earth. 

Chiefest in dignity and purity of char- 
acter, to my young mind, among those 
old men who are seen no more here, was 
Esquire Montgomery, owner and posses- 
sor for many years of the lake-side farm. 
How well we remember now, through 
the long, dreamy past, with what vener- 
ation we watched him enter the house of 
God, always with bowed head uncovered 
and countenance serene and calm. There 
was no rude, boyish talk or noise from 
young lips as he passed up the broad 
steps with his goodly wife, fit companion 
for so noble a man and good. We think 

of her in these later years as an earnest 
leader in the Sunday class, and a gentle 
advisor and cheerer of our young hopes. 

More than a score of years the grass 
has grown green above them. He passed 
on before, but she could not tarry long 
without him. In the little graveyard on 
the south hill the stars look kindly down 
and the winds sigh among the forest 
branches above the mounds that mark 
where they were laid. A daughter, too, 
left ere long and followed the aged cou- 
ple; and as she passed from the gaze of 
those to whom she bade adieu, a beckon- 
ing hand called a beloved grandchild, 
and Ann went to join the family reunion 
"up yonder." 

It is with no slight emotion that we re- 
fer to those whose records form a part of 
the history of our young days; gray 
haired men and women, w r ho had been 
-our early friends and counsellors, and 
whom we had been taught to love and 
respect. There were many of whom we 
sometime may speak; some still walk 
the earth in pursuit of what the world 
calls happiness, and many others, too, 
dwellers in the little city of "polished 
white mansions of stone," and it is get- 
ting over-tenanted— the shadows of the 
tombstones are lying thick.' 

Do you remember, Frank, of reading 
somewhere thatXhe covering of the whole 
earth had been at* sometime or other dis- 
turbed to make room for dust that once 
was mortal? I have read or heard it; 
but I think the projector of the idea must 
have possessed a lively imagination, and 
did not base his statements upon calcula- 
tions or a second thought, for if all the 
dead, from the victim of Cain's cruel 
wrath in the Armenian valley down to 
the last stilled soul, were laid side by 
side among the hills and vales of New 
England, they w*ould find room to lie in 
and turn without jostling. 

There is another unforgotten grave in 
the midst of that sleeping congregation. 
It is marked by a white stone with taper 
linger earnestly pointing up to God. 
You may know it; the first as you en- 
tered the high arched gateway; only the 
simple inscription. bt Our Father." 

Forty years ago Wm. Dodge was one 
of a long procession which, on a dreary 



autumn day, went out from the little 
church; but he returned not; he lay 
down to profound slumber among the 
silent sleepers. 

I well recollect the time, and of being 
borne in the arms of a kindly man, a 
friend of my father's. I was too young 
then to realize what in these later years 
seems a sad dream. The many sorrow- 
ful hearts and sympathizing friends — I 
can see even now, the dark pall and 
the dusky coffin gloomily waiting be- 
neath the pulpit. I recall the sobbing of 
the loving wife as she gazed for the last 
time on earth upon the white cheek 
where hers so oft had rested, and kissed 
again those lips, no longer life-giving, 
but cold, so icy cold ; I hear again the 
long-suppressed wail that went up as the 
strong soul yielded to the '* it must be 
so," and turned away as the closing lid 
went dowu ; and then there was the long 
line of sad mourners gathered around the 
— as I thought — " dark, open door into 
the beyond ;" the listless lingering as the 
sunlight disputed possession with each 
spadeful of earth from the sexton's blade 
until, driven to the surface, unyielding 
it rested, cleaving to the raised mound ' 
'neath -which they left him reposing in 
spite of the agonizing voices that would 
awaken him. 

This is a mournful retrospect, and yet 
our thoughts would linger here, clinging 
like the ivy and ancient mosses upon old- 
time ruins. There were many other of 
those unforgotten ones, men and women 
whose places are vacant, save in memo- 
ory, who went out into the silent un- 
known never to return, after gathering 
about them, as a mantle, the dignities 
and honors and emoluments of years. 

There were some, too, who in middle 
life went the dark road, gentle and loved 
ones who lay down the burden of their 
young lives, alas! for us too soon; whose 
future seemed full of hope and promise, 
whose early songs were of joy and glad- 
ness, and whose gay laugh and happy 
voices we sometimes hear even now, 
echoing from the dump earth through the 
lapse of hoarded years. See that long 
shadow where now the moonlight creeps? 
Eyes are not yet dry since that grave 
was made, but the grasses grow and 

flowers are blooming above the place 
where " Angie " rests. 

I meant to have spoken, among the>o 
memories, of the l% Old Red School 
House," and who of the country does 
not know of one, and has not treasures 
from it to view in the k * light of other 
days?" It stood just across the street 
from the " little church " of which you 
know. I say stood, for it, too, has passed 
away, like many of those who went out 
with us when school was last dismissed. 
Our play-ground, like all our lives, lay 
broad but direct from the school house 
door to the church-yard gate, and it was 
well beaten, too, with running feet. 
With all our love of mischief and roguish 
pranks, we were better boys and girls 
than we are men and women in these ma- 
turer years. Would that»to-day we car- 
ried as pure and as loving heart- and as 
virtuous lives as we did in that primary ! 
Would we could run down to the clear 
brook before the Master calls and wash 
our soiled hands and bespattered faces ! 
We could make them clean in those days. 

What an out-growth has there been 
from those dingy, whitewashed walls 
into the world of life. Some have toiled 
into wealth and fame, and others, alas! 
are treading the well beaten path of pov- 
erty and sorrow; and we are as scattered 
as the children of *' the Prophet," on 
some of whose heads the suu ever shines. 

Some, having completed their allotted 
task, have passed up above, there to re- 
ceive their diplomas. One, I femember, 
went out and returned not from recess at 
the master's rap ; hi3 books were gath- 
ered up by one who came to tell us that 
l% Will's " schooldays were done. 

Those rosy-cheeked, romping girls, 
too, they are no longer girls, but have 
grown into happy wives and mothers. 
Xo. not all; but of the few pale-faced 
and sad-eyed ones we would not speak 
to-night — those of the clouded lives and 
chilled hearts. 

Our school time is all over, boys, and 
we are grown to be worldlings; not rich, 
all of us, as the world counts riches, but 
have we not the gold of the glowing sun- 
set, and are not our clouds all lined with 
silver, and ours, too, this silvery moon- 
light and these starry diamonds, and 


have we not, above all, the wealth of suu ourselves here yet a little, and then 

fond, loving hearts and happy homes; pass on where there will be no more 

und have we not in those heavenly cof- change. 

fers much of the riches which repay But would it not be grand, "Dav, v be- 
good actions here? Then why be sad- fore the Master calls, to go out tor an 
dened at the change? Life is but a series hour upon the " old playground" and 
of changes, each loss being made up by have another good game at " pull-away " 
again? or " snap-the-whip," or, better yet, 

I say we are growing old ; the last day " hunt the wild deer over the hills? " 
of school will soon be around. We may 



Once more my muse ! from rest of many a year, 
Come forth again and sing, as oft of yore; 

Now lead my steps to where the crags appear 
In silent grandeur, by the rugged shore 

That skirts the margin of thy waters free, 

Lake of my mountain home, loved u Sunapee!" 


Meet invocation to the pregnant scene, 

Where, long ere yet the white man's foot had come, 
Roam'd wild and free the daring Algonquin, 

And where, perchance the stately Metacom 
Inspired his braves with that poetic strain 
Which cheer'd the Wampanoags, but cheer'd in vain. 


Clear mountain mirror ! who can tell but thou 
Hast borne the " red man " in his light canoe, 

As fleetly on thy bosom as e'en now 

Thou bear'st the i; paleface " o'er thy waters blue ; 

And who can tell but nature's children then, 

Were rich and happy as the mass of men? 


Sweet Granite " Katrine " of this mountain land ! 

Oh jewel set amid a scene so fair! 
"Kearsarge," " Ascutney," rise on either hand, 

While u Grantham" watches with a lover's care, 
And " Sunapee " to ll Croydon" sends in glee 
A greeting o'er thy silvery breast, Lake Sunapee! 



How grand, upon a moonlit eve, to glide 
Upon thy waters, 'twixt the mountains high, 

And gaze within thy azure crystal tide, 
On trembling shadows of the earth and sky ; 

While all is silent, save when trusty oar 

Awakes an echo from thy slumbering shore ! 

Ah! where shall mortals holier ground espy, 
From which to look where hope doth point the gaze, 

Than fr«m the spot that speaks a Deity, 
In hoary accents of primeval praise? 

And where shall man a purer altar rind 

From which to worship the Almighty mind? 


Roll on, sweet Lake ! and if perchance thy form 
Laves less of earth than floods of western fame, 

Yet still we love thee, in the calm or storm, 
And call thee ours by many a kindly name ; 

What patriot heart but loves the scenes that come 
\ . O'er memory's sea, to breathe a tale of " home." 


And when the winter, in its frozen thrall, 
Binds up thy locks in braids of icy wreath , 

Forget we not thy cherished name to call, 
In fitting shadow of the sleep of death ; 

But morn shall dawn upon our sleep, and we, 

As thou in springtime, wake, sweet Sunapee ! 


[from dr. quint's centennial oration.] 

On the thirteenth of December, 1774, was notified, and led twenty men. It 

into Portsmouth came riding that gallant was determined to seize Fort William 

rider, Paul Revere. lie brought from and Mary. The movement was to be 

William Cooper, of Boston, an official open. John Langdon, then an officer of 

dispatch to Samuel Cutts, of the local militia, and John Sullivan, who was then 

committee. The king in council had pro- drilling a volunteer company in antici- 

hibited the exportation of military stores pation of war, were leaders. Gov. Went- 

from England, and orders were out to worth knew of the plan, and informed 

seize all munitions of war in the colonies, the commander of the fort. "About 

He brought also the rumor that two roy- twelve o'clock' 1 of the next day. wrote 

al regiments were to be sent to the Pis- the Governor to the Earl of Dartmouth 

cataqua. The committee met and decid- six days later, '-news was brought to me 

ed. It sent dispatches to the neighbor- that a drum was beating about the town 

ing towns. John Sullivan, of Durham, to collect the populace together in order 



to take away the gunpowder and disman- 
tle the fort. ... I sent the chief-justiee 
to warn them from engaging in such an 
attempt. He went to them, told them it 
was not short of rebellion, and entreated 
them to desert from it and disperse. But 
all to no purpose. They went to the 
island; they forced an entrance in spite 
of Capt. Cochran, who defended it as 
long as he could. They secured the cap- 
tain, triumphantly gave three huzzas, 
and hauled down the king's colors/' 
And the helpless governor soon issued a 
proclamation which begins : "Whereas, 
several bodies of men did in)the day- 
time," etc., etc. 

This capture was in the afternoon of 
the 14th of December, an open and de- 
termined attack. 

Said the commander of the fort, in his 
official report, dated the same day : 

"I prepared to make the best defence I 
could, and pointed some guns to those 
places where I expected they would en- 
ter. About three o'clock, the fort was 
beset on ail sides by upwards of five hun- 
dred men. I told them on their peril not 
to enter. They replied they would. I 
immediately ordered three four-pounders 
to be tired on them, and then the small 
arms, and before we could be ready to 
fire again, we were stormed on all quar- 
ters, and immediately they secured me 
and my men. and kept us prisoners about 
one hour and a half, during which time 
they broke upon the powder-house, and 
took all the powder away except one 

Ninety-seven barrels of powder were 
taken away, and on the night of the loth, 
the patriots returned and carried off all 
the arms that could be moved. 

How men were raised for the expedi- 
tion; how that powder was afterwards 
taken up to Durham in boats, in a bitter- 
ly cold night, the men not allowed to 
wear shoes lest a spark from the nails 
should ignite the powder ; how most of 
it was hidden under the old pulpit from 
which the patriotic Adams preached ; 
how the New Hampshire men's powder 
horns were filled from it when they 
started for Cambridge, and how John 
Demeritt, of Durham, hauled thither an 
ox-cart load, arriving just in season to 
have it served out for Bunker Hill— was 
written out for me twenty years ago, 
from the lips of Eleazer Bennett, then 

near a hundred years old, who was prob- 
ably the last survivor of that daring ex- 
pedition. And that powder supplied the 
two Xew Hampshire regiments at Bun- 
ker Hill, which, attacked by the veteran 
Welch Fusileers, were commanded by 
James Reid and John Stark, and made 
such slaughter of the best English troops. 
The daring character of this assault 
can not be over-estimated. It was an or- 
ganized investment of a royal fortress, 
where the king's flag was flying, and 
where the king's garrison met them with 
muskets and artillery. It was four 
months before Lexington ; and Lexing- 
ton was a resistance to attack, while this 
was a deliberate assault. It was six 
months before Bunker Hill. I fail to 
find anywhere in the colonies, so early 
an armed assault upon royal authority. 
So far, it must be held that the first ac- 
tion in arms, of the Revolutionary war, 
was in New Hampshire, and by New 
Hampshire patriots. This attack was 
treason. It exposed every man concern- 
ed in it to the penalty of treason. When 
the war-vessels came, a few days after, 
the men of the little garrison were placed 
on board, to be kept as witnesses in the 
expected trials. When the King heard of 
this capture, it so embittered him that all 
hope of concessions was at an end. It 
made war inevitable. But the trials for 
treason never took place. The then gov- 
ernor, John Went worth, the best of all 
the royal governors of that day — de- 
scended from that William Wentworth 
who was Elder of our Dover first church, 
and of the same blood with that Earl of 
Strafford who was beheaded in the time 
of the first Charles, and with the British 
premier, the Marquis of Rockingham, — 
soon sailed away, never again to set foot 
upon his native soil. John Langdon, af- 
ter gallant service in the war, and price- 
less service in its civil support, became 
governor, and the first President of the 
Senate of the Linked States. John Sulli- 
van, then a lawyer in Durham, was son 
of that John Sullivan who was once 
school-master of the town of Dover, and 
who was the father of governors, and 
our local traditions insist was born on 
our side of the Salmon Falls. To him 
the refugee, Livius, wrote from Montreal, 


in 1777, urging his return to the royal death at Stillwater. Alexander Scammel, 

cause, promising him particular reward, of that Durham party, was Adjutant- 

and saying. "You were the first man*in General of the army when he fell at 

active rebellion," and Livius had lied Yorktown. Demeritt, Griffin, Bennett, 

from Portsmouth. Sullivan became Ma- Chesley, Noble and Durgin, of that ex- 

jor-General, and governor of his State, pedition. all did service in the army of 

"Winborn Adams, also of Dover blood, the Revolution, 
was Lieutenant-Colonel when he met his 

We will esteem it a favor on the part 
of those subscribers for the Monthly 
who wish prosperity for our enterprise 
(and this we trust includes them all), if 
they will call the attention of their friends 
and acquaintances, at home and abroad, 
to the publication. As yet but a small 
proportion of the residents of New 
Hampshire, and a vastty smaller pro- 
portion of the former residents now 
having their homes elsewhere, are aware 
of the existence of such a publication as 
the Granite Monthly. A word of sug- 
gestion and information in this direction 
on the part of each subscriber will re- 
sult in a material increase of the subscrip- 
tion list — always an encouraging circum- 
stance to the publisher, and in turn re- 
sulting in some degree at least to the ad- 
vantage of his patrons. 

The consumption of coal in the towns 
and villages of our State increases large- 
ly from year to year. In some places, 
where six years ago none at all was used, 
many hundred tons are consumed an- 
nually, and it is safe to say that during 
the coming winter the quantity of coal 
burned in New Hampshire, aside from 
railroad and manufacturing purposes, 
will be double that of any former winter. 
This happens in large degree, from 
the fact that coal is cheaper than wood, 
even with the high rates of freight that 
are paid for its transportation. A ton of 
good coal is generally considered worth 
two cords of the best wood for heating 
purposes, while in all the cities and larg- 
er villages of the State, one cord of wood 
costs about as much as a ton of coal. 
This comes about from the fact that most 
of the wood within easy access of the 
cities and villages has been cut away, 
and nearly all that comes into market 
has to be brought several miles by teams, 

which necessarily adds largely to th e 
cost. A question, therefore, well worth 
consideration, is whether or not much of 
the land now under cultivation within 
easy access of our large towns could not 
be made to yield a greater relative profit 
in the growth of wood. The State 
Board of Agriculture will do well to 
consider this question. 

Next to the press and the pulpit the 
lyceum or lecture platform is, or should 
be. the most important source of popular 
instruction. That the lyceum has been 
abused or misused — that the public have 
been humbugged by the palming off 
upon them of worthless trash at high 
prices, under the name of first-class lec- 
tures — is no argument against the in- 
stitution itself, any more than the circu- 
lation of unreliable or pernicious news- 
papers and the delivery of flashy or sen- 
sational sermons are arguments against 
the maintenance of the press and the pul- 
pit generally. It is true that the people 
have been imposed upon in this direction, 
as they have been in a thousand others, 
and will continue to be to a greater or 
less extent. The public at large, as well 
as individuals, must learn by experience, 
and they are coming to know better and 
better from year to year, who among the 
the great array of professional lecturers 
are really worthy of their patronage, as 
they are also coming more generally to 
appreciate the real value of the lecture 
system. "We are pleased to observe, 
that, notwithstanding the general hard 
times, there is to be a more extended pat- 
ronage of lectures for the coming win- 
ter in our State than in any previous sea- 
son, while fo'r the most part the selec- 
tion of lecturers is more careful and ju- 
dicious than heretofore. 




VOL. 1. NOVEMBER, 1877. 

NO. 7. 



The Year 1667. 
If one will take the old Neck road at 
Pine Hill cemetery in Dover ; go past the 
Wingate farm on which the YVingates, 
six generations of them, have lived con- 
tinuously since the year 1662 ; cross Lit- 
tle John's creek; follow the road up 
Huckleberry Hill, and continue a mile 
or so on the elevated plateau beyond, he 
will see, on his right, and touching the 
road at a point where the road begins to 
descend decidedly, the well marked rem- 
nants of an earth-work. The work is 
perfectly traceable ; the only loss being 
at one corner of the southeastern projec- 
tion for sentries, which is on the road- 
side, and where some vandal of a road- 
surveyor cut away a small portion for 
the sake of gravel. That earth was once 
crowned with a strong palisade, and 
within it stood the second meeting house 
of l 'The First Church in Dover.-' The 
rains of two hundred and ten years have 
not been able to wash away the earth- 
work which the fathers built around their 
small house of worship. " Forty foot 
longe, twenty-six foot wide, sixteen foot 
stud," was that meeting house; with six- 
windows, two doors, tile covering, and 
14 with glass and nails for it." It was in 
1G53 that that second edifice was built. 
On that house they placed a turret, in 
1665, and in it, from that year, swung the 
l>ell they bought in England; before 

which time, from 1648, Richard Pink- 
ham, by town authority, had summoned 
the people to church by beat of his 

It was in 1667 they built the " fort," 
as the old records called it, for a defence 
against the Indians. The ground slopes 
rapidly on each side of the work. The 
palisade was one hundred feet square", 
with " two sconces of sixteen^ foot 
square." The timbers were twelve inch- 
es thick, and the wall eight feet high, 
with sills and braces. Inside the inclos- 
ure the men stacked their arms on the 
Lord's day; and inside the two 
" sconces," which stood on alternate cor- 
ners, the sentinels watched. They could 
see far up and down the road north aud 




south; and from Bellamy river to the 
Kewicbawannock west and east. 

To that church came the people, not 
only of Dover Neck, but from Bellamy, 
and Nock's Marsh, aud — save in the win- 
ter—from Cochecho and a mile still farther 
north. To the toll of its bell came the 
canoes across from Back River side, and 
across the turbulent waters of the Pis- 
cataqua from Bloody Point, and even 
from the southern shores of the Great 
Bay. The Durham people, then the 
Oyster River part of Dover, had a meet- 
ing house of their own. but rarely had a 
minister ; aud when they had none they, 
too, came, or rather generally rebelled 
against coming, so far as to Parson Rey- 
ner's. And taxes for the ministry were 
laid upon all the people, from the, south 
shore of Great Bay to the woods of Lee, 
and from Boiling Rock on the main Pis- 
cataqua to Newichawannock falls. 

The people were required by law to go 
to church. Five shillings a day was the 
penalty of absence. In 1662, numbers 
were suddenly prosecuted. William Rob- 
erts had been absent twenty-eight Sun- 
days. James Smith, fourteen days, and 
paid ten shillings extra for one day at a 
Quaker meeting. James Nute, sen., 
wife and son, twenty-six days, ''and for 
entertaining Quakers 4 hours in one 
"day," was fined forty shillings an hour. 
Jellian Pinkham, thirteen days, but as her 
husband refused to pay, she w r as set in 
the stocks one hour. 

Mr. Reyner, the then minister of the 
town, as he was from 1655 till his death, 
was an educated man; wt a man of meek 
and humble spirit, sound in the truth, 
and every way irreproachable in his life 
and conversation." He was a man of 
some wealth; owning, and dying pos- 
sessed of, an estate in Batley, Yorkshire, 
in the old country. He lived in Dover, 
near the meeting house, across the road. 
From the southeast corner of the work 
go down the road fourteen rods; then 
cross the road, and four rods due east 
from the fence is a partially filled old 
cellar. Over that cellar stood the house 
of Parson Reyner, and there he died, 
April 20, 16G9. 

Mr. Reyner's church officers were, — 
Elders Hatevil Nutter aud William. Went- 

worth ; and Deacon John Hall. 

Hatevil Nutter was certainly in Dover 
in 1637, aud probably in 1635. He took a 
house lot in the divisiou made by Capt. 
Thomas Wiggin, and lived near the 
church, on the opposite side of the road. 
He died in a good old age, ancestor of all 
the Nutters. 

John Hall was deacon from about 1655 
until his death, about 1692. The spot 
where he lived was lately traceable. It 
was southwesterly from the church, on 
the last firm ground above the Back 
river. Ancient bricks have been 
ploughed out of his cellar. His spring, 
still known as "Hall's Spring," on 
the west side of the railway, still 
flows as briskly as in 1667. Of his mul- 
titude of descendants, two Dover law- 
yers now bear his family name, and an- 
other descendant is the present Mayor of 
the city. 

William Went worth is more noted. 
He was one of Wheelwright's adherents, 
and connected with him by some circuit- 
ous family alliances. He followed Wheel- 
wright from England to Boston, from 
Boston to Exeter, and from Exeter to 
Wells. Thence he came to Dover, He 
lived on the Wentworth property, still in 
the family, east of Garrison Hill. He 
was of an old Saxon family, descendant 
of Reginald Wentworth, a Saxon lord of 
the time of the Norman Conquest. His 
immediate ancestry had become rather 
decayed by descent from younger sons. 
The great estates went through elder 
lines, and are now held by the present 
Earl Fitzwilliam, owner of the magnifi- 
cent " Wentworth House," one of the 
finest structures in England. Elder 
Wentworth, in the wilds of New Hamp- 
shire, may not have known that Thomas 
Wentworth, Earl of Strafford, beheaded 
iD the troublous times of Charles I., was 
his remote kinsman in the eldest line.. 
In the year in which the Elder saw our 
earth-work rising, his kinswoman, Hen- 
rietta Maria, became fifth Baroness 
Wentworth, and both died in the same 
spring, that of 1606, — her title being now 
held by the twelfth Baron Wentworth, 
grandson of the tenth Baroness Went- 
worth, better known as Lady Byron, 
wife of the poet. It is curious to con- 



jecture whether the humble Elder knew stituted that church, felt obliged to quit 
thai he was of the same blood with that Exeter aud take refuge, in Maine, on ac- 
Margary Wentworth who married Sir count of the extension of Massachusetts 
John Seymour, and was mother of that .authority over this territory. In 1614, 

Jane Seymour, wife of King Henry 
VIII., whose son reigned as King Ed- 
ward VI. The old Dover blood was 
mixed. Thus, Francis Cbampernown, 
who lived on Great Bay, had in his veins 
the blood of the Plantagenets. All this 
availed little where a sturdy yeoman's 
muscles were more than high blood in. 
subduing the forests. Elder Wntworth 
lived simply, uprightly, manfully. He 
himself became ancestor of three Gover- 
nors of his name, who governed New 
Hampshire from 1717 to 1776; of the 
John who was President of our rebellious 
Legislature of 1775; of the John who 
signed the old Articles of Confederation 
in the Continental Congress ; of the John, 
now of Chicago, long in Congress : of 
Tappan, another Congressman. Even 
our present Senator, Edward H. Rollins, 
is a descendant of the Elder. That blood 
has given Colonels and Generals innu- 
merable; and, in literary lines, Mrs. 
Gore, the English novelist, and Mrs. 
Sigourney, the Americau poet, loved to 
trace their descent from the Elder of the 
Dover First Church. 

The Year 163S. 

When that still visible fortification was 
building, the First Church was in the 
twenty-ninth year of its age. We go 
back, then, to that date, December, 1638. 
In that month Hanserd Knollys organized 
the Church which has now had an unin- 
terrupted life of two hundred and thirty- 
nine years. 

The church undoubtedly, in point of 

age. ranks second in New Hampshire. 
The church in Hampton precedes it by 
several months. Occasional attempts 
have been made to give the Exeter 
church also a priority, but without suc- 
cess. For, first, the original Exeter 
church was made up of members whom 
the records of the First Boston Church 
show were dismissed for that purpose 
only in January, 1639, or a month later 
than the actual organization of the Do- 
ver church. Secondly, that first Exeter 
church became extinct in 1642, when 
Wheelwright aLd his friends, who con- 

some Exeter people attempted to organ- 
ize a new church, but Massachusetts for- 
bade it. There was thereafter no church 
in Exeter until its present First Church 
was organized, namely, Sept. 21, 169S; 
whose records commence thus: "The 
order of proceeding in gathering a partic- 
ular Church in Exeter.'" Yet the Con- 
gregational annual reports give to the 
present First Church in Exeter the date 
1639, a date belonging to au organization 
dead and gone fifty-six years before this 
present one was gathered. History is 
frequently written in this way. 

The ecclesiastical history of the First 
Parish, the successor of the town, dates 
still further back. Its first meetinghouse 
was erected in 1633, and it had tw an 
able and worthy Puritan minister,'' Wil- 
liam Leverich, the first minister of Xew 
Hampshire. That appears to have been 
the first church edifice built in this State; ■ 
George Burdett was the next succeeding 
minister in Dover. Then came Hanserd 
Knollys, founder of the Church. 

Knollys was a Cambridge man in edu- 
cation ; had been a minister of the Church 
of England, but resigned his living from 
Puritan convictions ; was harassed by 
imprisonment and persecution, and left 
England; was forbidden by the Massa- 
chusetts government to remain in that 
Colony because thought to be Antino- 
nian; and at the age of forty found ref- 
uge on the free Piscataqua. 

Here he found a settlement originated- 
under Episcopal auspices, — Edward Hil- 
ton always a Churchman, — although en- 
larged under other influences ; a people 
mixed in character, but none of them 
emigrants for conscience' sake, and even 
the Puritan portion not of the severe 
Bay type; the colony a northern refuge 
of liberty for men who could not endure 
the Massachusetts arbitrary rule, as 
Rhode Island was the southern refuge ; 
no church organized after iifteeu years of 
colonial life; and a minister, George Bur- 
dett, who, a Churchman, was in corres- 
pondence with Archbishop Laud, and 
who had succeeded in getting himself 


by the voice of the 

made " Governor, 

But Knollys succeeded in organizing a 
church " of some of the best minded,'* 
which, written by a Puritan, meant Pu- 
ritan. Burdett, whose letters to Laud, 
still existing in the Public Record office 
in London, told altogether too much 
truth as to Massachusetts policy to suit 
Massachusetts, became guilty of misde- 
meanors, or at least a Massachusetts his- 
torian said so, and went to Aganienticus, 
where he became Governor again. For 
two years, Knollys remained in peace, 
with Capt. John Underbill, an old sol- 
dier of Count Maurice in the Low Coun- 
tries, and at this period Governor of Do- 
ver, as his main coadjutor. 

But in 1640, came hither Rev. Thomas 
Larkham, also a graduate of Cambridge. 
The Puritan historian has thrown oblo- 
quy on his name, but a careful student of 
New Hampshire history soon learns to 
distrust such accounts, when Massachu- 
setts policy was concerned. Larkham 
was, in spirit, still k in sympathy with the 
English church. It was an age of relig- 
ious confusions, and of yet unsettled con- 
ditions. The people of Dover cast aside 
Knollys, and received Larkham. This is 
easily understood, by remembering that 
the prelatical party was in existence. 
Then came dissensions. "The more re- 
ligious," Winthrop says, adhered to 
Knollys ; which in bis mind meant the 
Puritan element. Larkham received to 
the church " the notoriously scandalous 
and ignorant, so they would promise 
amendment;" which meant, in Puritan 
' minds, the practice of the Church of 
England. " These two fell out," says 
Lechford, " about baptizing children, re- 
ceiving of members, and burial of the 
dead," which means that the Puritan 
buried the dead without scripture, prayer, 
psalm or word; while the prelatist buried 
with the forms of the English church. 
Two parties finally appeared in arms. 
The magistrates supported Larkham ; got 
help from the Episcopal settlements at 
Portsmouth and across in Maine, and 
gave Larkham the supremacy. 

Then Massachusetts sent men ostensi- 
bly to mediate, but really to pave the 
way for annexation. The existence of a 

free colony on the northern border was 
irksome. Tired of stragglings, the peo- 
ple, after considerable delay* and exact- 
ing terms which guarded their liberties, 
finally consented to come under Massa- 
chusetts authority. Both Knollys and 
Larkham left, the one in 1641, the other 
iu 1642. and Daniel Maud, in that year, 
was sent to Dover as minister of the First 
Church, where he peaceably remained 
until his death in 1655. And thencefor- 
ward this church had a peaceful life, 
even to this day. 

We give this more particular account 
of the real cause of the dissensions here 
iu 163S- , 42, — the existence of the irrec- 
oncilable Puritan and prelatic elements, — 
because Belknap fails to do so, and be- 
cause, until some cotemporary hints sug- 
gested, no such solution, we believe, ev- 
er appeared. 

Knollys and Larkham alike returned to 
England. Each became eminent in re- 
ligion and good lives. Knollys became 
a Baptist, Larkham an Independent. 
Each suffered greatly from the establish- 
ed church, and each died in great esteem. 
It is also remarkable that engraved por- 
traits of each are still in existence, a 
copy of that of Knollys being in Dover. 
It is somewhere stated that Knollys was 
of the ancient family of that name, and 
was allowed to visit King Charles I. in 
his imprisonment. 

The line of ministers of the First Par- 
ish is as follows : 

1. William Leverich, 1633-'35. His de- 
scendants are numerous on Long Island, 
where he died. 

2. George Burdett, 1637-'8. 

3. Hanserd Knollys, 1638-'41. 

4. Thomas Larkham. 1640-'42. 

5. Daniel Maud, 1642-'5o. 

6. John Reyner, 1655-'69, dying in of- 

7. John Reyner, Jr., 16G0-'71, son of 
the last preceding, dying in office. 

8. John Pike, 1678-1710, dying in office. 

9. Nicholas Sever, 1711-'15. After- 
wards a Judge in Massachusetts. 

10. Jonathan dishing, 1717-1769, dying 
in office, and the last minister ef this 
church dying in its pastorate. 

11. Jeremy Belknap, D.D., 1767-1786, 
the faithful historian of New Hampshire. 








12. Robert Gray, 17S7-1S05. 

13. Caleb Hamilton Shearman, 1807--12. 

14. Joseph Ward Clary, 1812-'28, 

15. Hubbard Winslow, D.D., LL.D., 
1828- ? 31. 

16. David Root, lSSS-'SQ. 

17. Jeremiah Smith Young, lS39-'43. 

18. Homer Barrows, lSio- , 52. 

19. Benjamin Franklin Parsons, 1853- 

20. EliasHuntingtonRichardson,D.D., 

21. Avery Skinner Walker, 1864-'6S. 

22. George Burley Spalding, 1869 — . 

The Year 1877. 

George Burley Spalding, tbe pres- 
ent pastor of the First Church, was born 
in Montpelier, Vt., August 11, 1835, son 
of Dr. James and Eliza (Reed) Spalding. 

Dr. James Spalding was son of Deacon 
Reuben Spalding, one of the early set- 
tlers of Vermont, whose life was not 
more remarkable for his toils, privations 
and energy as a pioneer in a new coun- 
try, than for his unbending Christian in- 

tegrity. Dr. James Spalding was the 
third of twelve children, and for many 
years was a successful practitioner of 
medicine, but especially eminent in sur- 
gery. "His life," said a printed sketch, 
t; was that of the Good Samaritan, a life 
of toil, prayer, and sympathy for oth- 

George Burley Spalding was the sev- 
enth of nine children. He graduated at 
the University of Vermont in 1856, being 
twenty-one years of age. He read law 
one year in Vermont, and then went to 
Tallahassee, Florida, where he read law 
another year. While in the South, he 
was a regular correspondent of the New 
York Courier and Enquirer, of which his 
brother, James Reed Spalding, was one 
of the editors. As such he attended the 
noted Southern Commercial Convention 
in Savannah, in 185S, where Yancey, 
Rhett, Barnwell and De Bow poured out 
their hot. invective. In the following 
year he mingled with the great Southern 
leaders, on the eye of the great events 



•which were soon to burst upon the coun- 
try. Doubtless in his law study and in 
his inteicourse with men in different 
phases of society, he acquired that prac- 
tical acquaintance with human nature 
which made available his instinctive and 
common-sense power of meeting all class- 
es of men. 

Circumstances led him to change his 
purpose. He. returned north, abandoned 
the law, and began the study of Theolo- 
gy in the Union Theological Seminary in 
New York City. Here he remained two 
years. Here, also, he did regular edito- 
rial work on the New York World, of 
which his brother was founder, and subse- 
quently wrote for the columns of the 
New York Times. This experience ena- 
bled him, later, to write for five years, 
a large portion of the editorial leaders 
of the Watchman and Beflector. Leaving 
New York, he entered Andover Theolog- 
ical Seminary, where, after one year's 
study, he graduated in 1SG1. On the 5th 
of October of that year he was ordained 
pastor of the Congregational Church in 
Vergennes, Yt., a position which he re- 
signed August 1, 1S64, to accept a call to 
the Park Church, Hartford, Conn., for- 
merly Dr. BushnelPs, where he was in- 
stalled September 28. He resigned that 
charge, and was dismissed March 23, 
1869, and was installed pastor of the 
First Church in Dover, September 1st, 

Mr. Spalding's literary work has been 
extensive, but mainly upon current news- 
paper periodicals. This has given him, 
of course, a valuable directness and clear- 
ness of expression. Five sermons have 
been published : A sermon on the death 
of Gen. Samuel Strong, of Vergennes, 
Vt. A sermon on God's Presence and 
Purpose in War. A Discourse on the 
250th anniversary of the settlement of 
Dover. A Memorial of John P. Hale, — 
a fine specimen of judicious analysis, In 
which he does justice to the pioneer of 
the anti-slavery cause in the U. S. Sen- 
ate — a justice now latelyjapparently pur- 
posely ignored out of a desire to magni- 
fy a brilliant but later laborer. A Cen- 
tennial on the Dover Pulpit in the Revo- 
lution, for which he searched and well 
used the manuscript of his eminent pred- 

ecessor, Dr. Jeremy Belknap. 

Without disparagement to others, it is 
safe to say that public opinion accords to 
Mr. Spalding a foremost place among 
the ministers of New Hampshire. Cer- 
tainly no pastor of the ancient First 
Church ever bad a greater public respect 
or a deeper, personal affection. Under 
his ministry large numbers have been 
added to the church, and his administra- 
tion of a strong and thinking society goes 
on without even a ripple. He has been 
frequently called to attend distant coun- 
cils, some of great and even national in- 
terest, and some where delicate questions 
required the wisest consideration ; aud in 
all cases his calm an d deliberate judg- 
ment has had an influence inferior to 

In his preaching, one has to study 
him to get the secret of his influence. 
There is nothing in it to startle. There is 
no dramatic exhibition. It is the far- 
thest possible from the sensational. There 
are never any protruding logical bones. 
He never indulges in any prettinesses of 
diction. But a critical analysis (the last 
thing one thinks of in listening to him) 
finds some elements. His themes are al- 
ways elevated themes. One sees the 
most earnest convictions, held in perfect 
independence and honesty; a natural de- 
velopment of thought in an always fresh 
and orderly way; a diction as clear as a 
pellucid brook ; illustrations drawn from 
wide observation, always simple and fre- 
quently beautiful; a genial, sometimes 
inteuse, glow pervading his whole dis- 
course; and a dignified but simple manli- 
ness throughout. Fully six feet in 
height, and with liberally developed 
physique, he impresses one at first main- 
ly with the idea of manly strength. 
Those who hear him, and especially those 
who know him, find an equal develop- 
ment of a generous nature which inclines 
always to sympathy, and with which he 
answers, in public and private, to every 
appeal to his helpful power. In doctrine 
he is understood to hold the main tenets 
of what is called old theology, but as 
forces rather than dogmas, and liberally 
instead of severely applied. 

Mr. Spalding was a member of the re- 
cent Constitutional Convention of New 



Hampshire. He is also a Trustee of the 
State Normal School, by appointment of 
the Governor and Council ; and is Chair- 
man of the Dover Board of Education. 

Ecclesiastically, he is one of the mana- 
gers of the New Hampshire Missionary 



1. The New Hampshire Patriot. 

Between the years 1790 and 1S10 sev- 
eral weekly journals were born and died 
in Concord. They severally partook of 
the scrap-book character of the papers 
of that early period, and exercised very 
little influence upon public opinion, be- 
cause important topics were seldom dis- 
cussed in their pages. Poetry, anec- 
dotes, charades, riddles, with a meagre 
record of domestic and foreign occur- 
rences, marriages and deaths in the vil- 
lage, with a few advertisements, occu- 
pied the sheet. Indeed, the public jour- 
nals of Boston, during the period here 
mentioned, partook somewhat of the 
character of those in country villages. 
Reference to ancient files of papers, 
printed in the New England metropolis 
during the period now under considera- 
tion, will fully sustain the assertion that 
the press of that day had not become a 
great power in the State. 

The New Hampshire Patriot was 
established by the late Isaac Hill, Esq., 
and the year 1809 is the date of a new de- 
parture in journalism, so far as this State 
is concerned. Mr. Hill was a native of 
Cambridge, Massachusetts, and served 
an apprenticeship at the printing busi- 
ness with Joseph dishing, proprietor and 
publisher of the " Farmer's Cabinet," 
a paper then and still living in Amherst, 
this State. The Patriot had been in ex- 
istence a few months before it came into 
the possession of Mr. Hill, but its infan- 
cy was of sickly nature, and it would 
have gone the way of many predecessors 
in Concord but for a change of owner- 
ship, Mr. Hill was a gentleman of un- 
tiring industry and decided convictious-, 
wrote with facility and vigor, and the pa- 

per soon commenced to exercise an influ- 
ence upon public opinion, not only in 
Concord and vicinity, but through a 
wider range, until it became a controling 
power in the State. 

There had been a season of much polit- 
ical warmth ten years before the Patriot 
became a vital force in New Hampshire — 
immediately before and during that can- 
vass which terminated in the election of 
Thomas Jefferson to the Presidency, and 
the birth of the journal here spoken of 
was, as seen by the date above given, in 
a period of no inconsiderable amount of 
fervor, as events were tending toward a 
war with England. Mr. Hill entered 
with zeal into the discussion of public 
affairs, and his paper was virtually with- 
out a competitor in the central, western, 
southern and northern portions of the 
State. Like all public journals, even 
such as number only two or three dec- 
ades — and the Patriot lacks but about 
two years of three-score and ten — it has 
been owned and conducted by several 
publishers. Its present proprietor is Ed- 
win C. Bailey, Esq. 
2. The New Hampshire Statesman. 

This public journal was commenced in 
the year 1823, the first number appearing 
on the 6th day of January, and therefore 
may be regarded as one of the ancient 
institutions of Concord. In the early 
years of the present century, when the 
present Main Street — a mile and a half 
long— contained the chief residences, 
stores and other business buildings, there 
grew up a degree of jealousy between 
the North and South End, which exer- 
cised a disturbing influence for many 
years, and entered even into the social 
relations of the inhabitants. Little feuds 




sprang up in what was then known as 
the Republican, in distinction from the 
Federal party. They at the North End 
regarded their down-town brethren as 
desirous of giving law to the party. 
Conspicuous among the latter were Isaac 
Hill, William and Joseph Low, Richard 
Bartlett and Jacob B. Moore; and of 
their North End brethren were John 
George, Robert Davis, Samuel Coffin, Abi- 
el Walker, Francis N. Fisk, and Charles 
and Joseph Walker — all now numbered 
with the dead. The first publisher of 
the Statesman was Luther Roby, Esq., 
who came hither from Amherst, and 
opened a printing office at the North 
End, in a building still standing and oc- 
cupied as a dwelling-house. The first 
person who had charge of the paper was 
Amos A. Parker, Esq., who had been in 
the practice of law at Epping ; and it is a 
somewhat remarkable circumstance that 
both these gentlemen still live; Mr. 
Roby in Concord at about seventy-six 
years, and Mr. Parker in Jaffrey, past 

It would be a laborious work, as in the 
case of the New Hampshire Patriot, 
to write of the mutations which the New 
Hampshire Statesman has undergone; 
and even if stated in detail, the narrative 
would possess little or no general interest. 
Many are the publications which had birth 
and died in Concord since these journals 
were commenced, and as to printers and 
publishers connected with one or the 
other, they would count a score and 
more. William Butterfield, Esq., is the 
oldest surviving editor of tho Patriot ; of 
those who had charge of the Statesman 
and still live are Amos A.Parker, George 
Kent, George W. Ela and Asa McFar- 
land — the two first at more than four- 
score years ; the two last about ten years 

3. The New Hampshire Historical 
Two hundred years had passed since 
the settlement of New Hampshire before 
the formation of its Historical Society ; 
an institution the utility of which is made 
manifest to all who have ever examined 
the contents of its well filled halls and 
cabinets in Concord, or taken into consid- 
eration the influence it has exerted in 

procuring to be written and published 
the many histories of New Hampshire 

In March, 1823, a literary society in 
Portsmouth addressed letters to Ichabod 
Bartlett, Timothy Upham, Alexander 
Ladd and Nath'l A. Haven, Jr., of Ports- 
mouth; Andrew Peircc, James Bartlett 
and Charles W. Cutter, of Dover; Ste- 
phen Mitchell of Durham ; David Barker, 
Jr, of Rochester ; John Kelly of North- 
wood; William Smith, O. W. B. Peabody 
and Peter Chadwick, of Exeter ; Samuel 
D. Bell of Chester, and Jacob B. Moore, 
Richard Bartlett and John Farmer, of 
Concord — requesting them to meet and 
make arrangements to celebrate the two 
hundredth anniversary of the settlement 
of New Hampshire. A meeting of gen- 
tlemen was held in Exeter, March 13th, 
and, after attending to the subject for 
which they assembled, they associated 
with themselves several others present, 
and proceeded to consider the subject of 
forming a society, the object of which 
should be to procure and preserve mate- 
rials relating to the natural, civil, litera- 
ry and ecclesiastical history of New 
Hampshire. Hon. Ichabod Bartlett of 
Portsmouth was called to the chair, and 
Professor Hosea Hildreth of Exeter chosen 
secretary. The meeting resolved that 
it was expedient to form such a society, 
and a committee was appointed to call 
another meeting, to be held at Ports- 
mouth on the 20th of the following May. 

The meeting took place, and was at- 
tended by twenty-one gentlemen, who 
formed themselves into an historical so- 
ciety, and took measures to procure an 
act of incorporation. An adjournment 
was had — Concord being designated as 
the place in which to re-assemble— and a 
charter having in the meantime been pro- 
cured, the first election of officers took 
place in that city on the 13th of June, 
1823, as follows : 

President, Hon. Wm. Plumer, of Ep- 
ping; Vice Presidents, Levi Woodbury, 
of Portsmouth, and Bennett Tyler, d. p., 
President of Dartmouth College; Re- 
cording Secretary, John Kelly, of Exe- 
ter;* Corresponding Secretary, Nathl. 
Haven, Jr., Portsmouth; Treasurer, 
George Kent, Concord ; Librarian, Jacob 



B. Moore, Concord ; Standing Commit- 
tee, Nathan Adams and Nathan Parker, 
D. D., of Portsmouth ; Prof. Hosea Hil- 
dreth, of Exeter; Committee of Publica- 
tion, Wm. Plumer, Jr., of Epping, Par- 
ker Noyes, of Salisbury, and John Far- 
mer, of Concord. Of the above the only 
survivor is George Kent, Esq., now re- 
siding in the city of Washington, at the 
age of eighty-one. 

The first volume of the Collections of 
the Society appeared in the following 
year, consisted of 336 pages, and was 
printed by Jacob B. Moore. Others have 
been issued as the means of the Society — 
always small — have allowed. Its income 
has from the first consisted almost whol- 
ly of initiation fees and the annual tax 
upon its members; usually two dollars. 
The Legislature votes a small sum annu- 
ally — the Society being justly considered 
its auxiliary in collecting materials of an 
historical character. For several years 
succeeding its formation the books, pam- 
phlets, manuscripts and other collections 
were deposited in an obscure apartment in 

the State House. Thence they were trans- 
ferred to a hall over the Concord Bank, 
and kept there for a very considerable 
period. The next migration was to an 
apartment in the Merrimack County 
Bank building— the Society still having 
money beneath it, although little or none 
in its treasury — near the north end of 
Main Street, where the property of this 
ancient institution has remained to this 
day. Several years ago the charter of 
the bank ceased by limitation, and by a 
persistent effort the funds — about S3000, 
were procured with which to purchase 
the bank building, and it is now the 
property of the Society. It is of brick, 
and slated; is three stories high, exter- 
nally fire-proof, and no fires are permit- 
ted in the building. Here the great and 
very valuable collections of the Society 
are kept, in charge of a gentleman 
with the taste, historical knowledge, in- 
dustrious habits and civil deportment in- 
dispensable in the custodian of such 
treasures— Daniel E. Secomb, Esq. 


[We copy the following from advance sheets of "Sketches of Old Dunstable," about to be pub- 
lished by E. H. Spaulding of Nashua. It is from the pen of Jonx B. Hill, Esq., the venerable his 
torian of Mason, and may be regarded as showing with substantial conclusiveness that John Love* 
well did not live to the age accorded him. — Ed.] 

John Lovewell of Old Dunstable, did 
he live to be 120 years old? This ques- 
tion has been debated, but never definite- 
ly settled. No record is found of his 
birth or of his death, nor any entry or 
memorandum, answering to the charac- 
ter of a record, in which his age at the 
time of his death is stated. In the years 
1825-2G I resided in Nashua, then Dun- 
stable. The tradition was then uniform 
and unquestioned that this was his age. 
Fox, whose book was published in 1846, 
(see Hist, of Dunstable, page 15S, note), 
seems to have doubted the statement, 
but finally to have yielded credit to it 
(see page 157), and Kidder (in Expedi- 
tion of Capt. John Lovewell) adopts the 

traditional age without question. Mr. 
Farmer, also, in his letter to me, says he 
always doubted it, though it seems to 
have passed into history as an undenia- 
ble fact. But it appears to me that a 
careful examination of all the facts will 
show that there is no foundation for the 
statement. During my residence in 
Nashua I obtained from Moody D. Love- 
well, Esq., a descendant of John Love- 
well, the loan of the town records and 
other papers of Old Dunstable, which 
were then in his keeping, but which I 
understand are now in the City Clerk's 
office. This book and papers, purport- 
ing to be records of the town and church 
of Old Dunstable, commencing in 1073 



and ending iu 1733, contained, as I be- 
lieve, every existing written document 
relating to the doings of the town and 
church during that period. I made a 
careful copy of everything in this book 
and these papers which I thought could 
be of any interest in illustrating the do- 
ings of the town and church or the names 
and fortunes of the residents and owners 
of lands in the town. 

Col. Ebenezer Bancroft, my mother's 
father, born April 1, 173S. was then re- 
siding on his farm in Tyngsboro', the 
second house south of the State line. I 
had frequent conversation with him dur- 
ing my residence in Xashua, as well as 
in previous years, in which he was fond 
of relating incidents of the early history 
of the town and region and of the early 
inhabitants. The substance of these con- 
versations I was careful to make minutes 
of at the time, and to make a record of 
in the same book. This book is now be- 
fore me, and I propose to resort to it and 
other documents in order to contribute 
my mite towards solving the problem of 
the age of John Lovewell. 

I find in the "ministers rate for the 
year 16S6," the names of the tax-payers 
in town, residents and non-resident3. I 
find no record of the rate in any preced- 
ing year. In this rate the name of Love- 
well does not appear, but in the rate for 
the year 1687 the names of Joseph Love- 
well and John Lovewell are entered, 
each rated at seven shillings. No town 
rate is set against any name, though sev- 
eral others have the same rates. This is 
the first appearance of the name in the 
records. In 16S8 John Lovewell. Jr., is 
one of the surveyors of the highways. 
In 16S9 John Lovewell, Sen., is one of 
the selectmen. In 1690 Joseph Lovewell 
is a fence viewer. In 1691 John Love- 
well is a hog constable. In 1693-4 John 
Lovewell is a fence viewer. In 1693 John 
Lovewell is a surveyor of highways. In 
1715 John Lovewell is a field driver. In 
" 1718, Feb. 3, Voted that the selectmen 
make a Rate of seventy pounds, also that 
there shall be a committee of five to 
sarch the town books to see what each 
proprietors grant was. and that no man 
might have more than his grant was, and 
to see that justice be done on that ac- 

count. The committy was Lt. Farwell, 
John Lovewell, Joseph Blanchard, Jon- 
athan Robens and Thomas Cummings." 
I find no entry of the name of Lovewell 
after this date except in the record of 
births, which are as follows : 

44 John Lovewell, son of John Love- 
well, was born 14th of Oct., 1691, (this 
was Capt. John Lovewell who was killed 
at Pequacket), Zacheous Lovewell, son 
of John and fauna lovewell, was born 22 
of July, 1701." 

l£ he was 120 years old in 1754, he was 
born in 1634 and was 24 years old when 
Cromwell died in 1655. He might then 
have been an Ensign in Cromwell's army 
according to the family tradition, as 
stated by Fox, but at that early age it is 
not probable that he was one of the 
"Ironsides;" and if it was, that circum- 
stance furnishes no reason why he should 
flee from his country on the occupation 
of Charles II., for it was only those who 
had taken an active part in the adminis- 
tration of civil affairs, who were exposed 
to punishment by the new rulers. 

Fox states that he settled in town some 
years before 1690. His deposition, taken 
in 1744, states that he was an inhabitant 
in 1680. Hi3 name first appeared in the 
record in 1687. In the record, the name 
of his wife in one place is Fauna, in an- 
other Hannah, and in the deposition 
Anna, all being in fact the same name. 
The birth of his son Jonathan, the Judge, 
is entered May 14, 1713. If he was 120 
when he died, he was 79, and his wife 
(by the deposition, ten years younger) 
69, when this child was born. That a 
husband 79 and a wife 69 should at that 
age have a son born who would be smart 
enough to become a judge, and who lived 
until 1792, is incredible. 

There is no doubt that Jonathan, the 
judge, was the son of John, and the 
brother of Captain John. Fox so states, 
and Col. Bancroft, who knew him well, 
so stated to me. Now, bearing in mind 
that for several years after 16S7, there 
were taking an active part iu the town 
affairs, John Lovewell, Sen., and John 
Lovewell, Jr., tradition may readily have 
borrowed some twenty from the years of 
the son to add to the father. 

What additional fact3 are there that 



can be relied upon bearing upon this 
question? In depositions taken in 1744, 
he states his age to be 93 years, and his 
wife's to be 83 years. Col. Bancroft, who 
was born in 173S, states that Lovewell, 
after he was 100 years old, walked from 
his home on Salmon brook to Tyngs- 
boro' meeting house, and then on the 
road towards Dunstable, Mass., to 
Thompson's, making nearly ten miles, 
and then was intending to return home 
on the same day, but was prevailed upon 
by Thompson to stay over night, and 
that on his return the next day he called 
at his father's house, and that his mother 

which he partook heartily, and then 
went on his way home. Now if he was 
93 in 1741, as stated in his deposition, he 
would be 100 in 1751. Col. Bancroft's 
mother died in September, 1754. Sup- 
pose this journey and call to have taken 
place in 1752, Col. B. would then be 14 
years old, an age at which he would be 
likely to notice and remember these facts, 
and as Lovewell, according to the depo- 
sition, would then be more than 100 
years old, it seems to me to be clearly 
shown that his age, instead of being rep- 
resented at Ms death by the figures 120, 
may be more properly and truly repre- 

furnished him food and refreshment, of sented by the figures 102. 



In order to the correction of certain 
prevalent erroneous ideas I am induced 
to contribute the following article on 

At the present time, when rabid ani- 
mals are so numerous, and the disease an 
epidemic, a just understanding of the dis- 
ease is essential for all, and it is only 
through the medical profession that the 
public can be enlightened. 

Hydrophobia, or rabies, occurs spon- 
taneously in the dog, cat and fox. The 
disease is transmitted to man by the bite 
of a mad or rabid animal, usually the 
dog. It is not necessary that the animal 
should inflict an actual wound, for a sim- 
ple scaling of the outer skin is sufficient 
to permit the absorption of the poison. 
The disease is not developed for some 
time after the bite ; the time varying from 
ten to forty days. A very few cases have 
been said to occur some nine months after 
the wound was inflicted. The number who 
actually die from hydrophobia is about 
forty-seven per cent, of the number bit- 
ten. If cauterization is immediately per- 
formed, the number is diminished to 
thirty-three per cent. Hydrophobia has 
occurred from time to time in Europe, as 
an epizootic, and during the last year the 

disease has certainly been an epidemic in 
New England. 

In this article I shall content myself 
with enumerating the more prominent 
symptoms as they occur in man and dog, 
and then give a plain treatment that can 
be understood by all. 

Symptoms in Man. — At the seat of the 
wound the patient at first complains of 
more or less pain of a boring or pricking 
character; the appetite is diminished, 
and often nausea or vomiting is experi- 
enced, headache, associated with restless- 
ness and gloomy forebodings, compelling 
the sufferer to move about without any 
definite object in view, the latter symp- 
tom producing an indescribable feeling 
of anxiety. Muscular weakness, chilly 
sensations and heaviness of the limbs are 
the most important symptoms which we 
witness at first. After twenty-four or 
forty-eight hours have expired (sooner 
in a few rare cases) comes the inabil- 
ity to swallow liquids. If the attenjpt is 
persisted in, it occasions violent parox- 
ysms of suffocation, which gives rise to 
the dread of water. The second stage, 
or stage of excitement, now supervenes, 
and all further attempts to drink are 
avoided. Often the sight of water, or 



the thought, will throw the patient into 
the most violent paroxysm, in which he 
motions his attendants to remove from 
his vision everything of a liquid nature. 
A slight touch, or even a siugle breath of 
air, will often excite formidable spasms, 
occurring every minute and lasting a few 
seconds. 'Breathing now becomes hur- 
ried, and anxiety is depicted in his coun- 
tenance. The whole muscular system, 
at this stage, is involved in violent con- 
vulsions. Delirium and hallucination 
supervene, the patient often exhibiting 
the wildest mania, talking irrationally 
and incoherently ; but intervals of rest 
occur, when the patient often evinces the 
greatest love for his friends and relatives, 
admonishing them to watch his move- 
ments, lest they should become injured 
by him during his insane moments. Al- 
though the patient may make snapping 
movements with his jaws, they never 
exhibit the characteristics of the animal 
from which the poison was received. 
The saliva, which has been gradually in- 
creasing in the mouth, now becomes so 
abundant and tenacious that it is ejected 
right and left. These symptoms usually 
increase until death closes the horrid 

Symptoms in the Dog. — You first notice 
a changed condition in his deportment, 
becoming restless and sullen, travelling 
or changing his position constantly. 
He may be very affectionate, licking the 
hands of his master with more than 
usual fervor, or a condition directly op- 
posite, being exceedingly irritable and 
easily aggravated. A disordered appe- 
tite usually shows itself very early, the 
dog loathing food, or if taken, it is vom- 
ited in a short time. Again, he will eat 
indigestible substances, as hay, rags, 
straw, dirt, leather, etc. This symptom 
is present in a great proportion of cases, 
and is a very important one. The eyes 
are very much inflamed; the nose dis- 
charges freely of its secretion. The seat 
of the bite is licked and scratched. These 
early symptoms may be entirely want- 
ing, thus throwing people off their 
guard. The second or violent stage usu- 
ally continues from forty-eight to ninety- 
six hours. Here we have paroxysms of 
rage, in which the animal bites at vari- 

ous objects. Food is loathed, and a de- 
cided change in the bark is manifested. 
Efforts are made to break away if the an- 
imal is confined, and when loosened he 
wanders over a great extent of country 
in a very short time. If he returns home, 
he is shy and suspicious. If the dog be 
chained, and any hard object be present- 
ed, he bites at it with great ferocity. 
These paroxysms of rage are succeeded 
by an interval of quiet in which the ani- 
mal is quite docile. This interval may 
be several hours in duration, during 
which period the mental aberration may 
disappear or become greatly diminished. 
Dogs, as a rule, are not affected like man 
when water is given them. In only rare 
instances does water produce spasms. 

* In many cases, suffering trom hydropho- 
bia, dogs drink and splash in water with 
great avidity. The third stage, or stage 
of paralysis, now supervenes. The par- 
oxysms of rage have become weaker and 
weaker until the poor animal is unable to 
walk, and drops down like one intoxicat- 
ed. He now lies curled up, unable to 
raise himself except on his fore-legs, and 
then only when disturbed. Extreme 
emaciation is now present, and the dog 
has become a shadow of his former self. 
His entire appearance has become unnat- 
ural. The convulsions now may be com- 
plete or partial, and death takes place on 
the fifth or sixth day. The development 
of the disease is not always thus. From 
fifteen to twenty per cent, of the animals 
from the first are sullen and depressed. 
There is less excitement, and less dispo- 
sition to wander away. The disposition 

-to gnaw and bite is diminished. The 
lower jaw is paralyzed, and consequently 
there is an inability to close the mouth. 
Frothing at the mouth is a character- 
istic symptom in this form of the disease. 
The remaining course of the disease is 
the same as in the other form. 

Treatw.ent. — We will suppose you have 
been bitten, what course shall you pur- 
sue to prevent the poison from being ab- 
sorbed? First, suck the wound thor- 
oughly yourself, or, if the position will 
not admit, it must be done by some oth- 
er person. This is certainly one of the 
most successful methods, and should be 
continued for twenty minutes, or an 



hour would be better. You need not be 
afraid the poison will be absorbed 
through the mouth, if the mucous mem- 
brane is not abraded. Cupping-glasses, 
if they could be applied at once, would 
be equally efficacious, but delays are 
dangerous. After suction has been ap- 
plied freely, we would recommend the 
application of the actual cautery, or, to 
be plain, searing the parts deeply with a 
red-hot iron. This you may thusk is 
harsh, but altogether preferable to hy- 
drophobia. If these two remedial agents 
are thoroughly applied, it is safe to say 
that there is only a bare possibility of 
your having hydrophobia. 

It is said that in the wilds of North 
America, where the first remedy (suc- 
tion) is in vogue, no infection has ever 
taken place. In Lyons, during the first 

twenty years of the present century, cer- 
tain women (hundssangerinnen) made it 
their business to apply suction to the 
wounds made by rabid dogs. Their com- 
pensation was fixed at ten francs for the 
first operation and five for each succeed- 
ing one. 

If the means we have mentioned are 
neglected and hydrophobia does occur, 
we do not believe that the materia medica 
furnishes a drug of any curative proper- 
ties. The patient must die. Opium and 
chloroform may mitigate the symptoms, 
but they never save life. 

The prevalent idea that if you are bit- 
ten to-day by a dog free from hydropho- 
bia, and that he should have the disease 
developed years after, you are liable to 
be attacked by the disease, is preposter- 
ous and without foundation. 





" Thank Heaven, it is done at last. No 
more farm drudgery for me ! " 

It was a warm afternoon in August. 
Two boys were standing in the open 
door-way of a large old-fashioned barn, 
upon a gentty sloping hillside, in a quiet 
New Hampshire town. Close by, at the 
left, and connected with the barn by a 
long, low shed, Which answered the 
combined purpose of granary, carriage- 
house and wood-shed, was a snug farm 
cottage, brown and weather-stained, one 
of the hundreds of dwellings of its class — 
" wood-colored," one story, with " L " — 
scattered over the hillsides and through 
the valleys of the old Granite State, from 
which there have gone out in the years 
of the past successive generations of 
strong-armed, brave-hearted, clear-head- 
ed young men, who have achieved suc- 
cess in the battle of life in varied fields 
of action throughout the length and 
breadth of the land. Who among us. 
who has reached middle life, cannot call 

to mind just such an humble farm cottage, 
somewhere or other in our good old 
State, that sheltered the youthful life of 
one whose name is now conspicuous in 
the political, professional, literary or sci- 
entific world? 

To the rear of the buildings was a 
rocky orchard, where troops of merry 
boys and bright-eyed girls, from the lit- 
tle red school-house hard by, had played 
'• hide-and-seek " many a summer noon- 
time. Farther up the hill, at the end of 
the long green lane which flanked the or- 
chard on the right, was a wide stretch of 
pasture, with a sugar orchard beyond, 
and thick woods, reaching far up to the 
summit of the hill. In front and to the 
right were well-tilled fields, rocky and 
uneven in places, to be sure, but whose 
strong soil produced the fair reward of 
faithful labor, as evidenced in the luxuri- 
ant '* patches " of corn, wheat, oats and 
potatoes here and there to be seen. 
Across the valley, toward which the bill 
sloped to the eastward, rose a grand old 



mountain, whose summit (now become a 
favorite resort of tourists) bad been re- 
garded by many a young and wondering 
mind as the highest point of earth — a 
rendesvouz for the spirits of the blessed, 
from which they made their final flight 
to upper worlds. Through the interven- 
ing valley ran a sprightly river, bordered 
by beautiful meadows above and below 
the " Falls," a point which afforded an 
excellent water-power, partially im- 
proved by a grist and saw mill, which, 
with a clump of two or three dwellings, 
stood near the junction of the winding 
highway, coming down from the hillside 
past the farm we have described, with 
the " river road" — the great thorough- 
fare of the region. 

Does any reader recognize the locality? 
More than one whose eyes these lines 
will greet have travelled along that 
"river road," passed up the hillside 
highway, and some, among the number, 
we venture to say, have " confiscated " 
apples from the rocky orchard of the 

But the boys? Young men, rather, 
we may call them, for they have attained 
the stature of manhood. Both are, phy- 
sically, fine specimens of young man- 
hood, though very unlike iu appearance. 
The eldest may be twenty years of age. 
Tall and symmetrical in form and grace- 
ful in movement, with a restless, dissatis- 
fied look upon his dark face, he is, indeed, 
a striking contrast to his shorter, sturdi- 
ly-built companion, whose ruddy, open 
countenance, half surrounded with a lux- 
uriant mass of curling, light-brown hair, 
tells at once of a genial, hopeful nature, 
as he stands wiping the perspiration 
from his uncovered brow. 

The last load of hay has just been 
stowed away above the " high beams," 
and as Charles Bradley sticks his fork in 
the mow and springs to the floor, he 
gives utterance to the words recorded 
above. His younger companion and co- 
laborer Edward Watson, replies: 

'- I am sorry, Charles, that you cannot 
be contented upon the old farm. There 
is euough for both at home, and work 
enough to do. Nor is a farm life so dis- 
agreeable after all. It is the healthiest 
and most independent calling that a man 
can follow." 

"Nonsense, Edward!" said Charles. 
41 If you think so, all right, since you 
have decided to spend your days on the 
farm, and it is best for one to be con- 
teuted with his lot : but as for me, I am 
thoroughly tired and disgusted with 
farm life. It is a life of drudgery in 
which the be«t powers of man are wast- 
ed — the same routine of toil from morn- 
ing to night, year after year, with no 
compensation but mere existence. I am 
glad to be done with it, and when I leave 
for Boston Monday morning to make my 
way in the world and win a place among 
men, it will be the happiest hour of my 
life. It is true I have had here a good, 
pleasant home. Father, mother, your- 
self and Nellie have always been kind and 
loving, und it grieves me to part with 
you, but I must do something in life to 
develop my manhood and win an honor- 
able position. I shall never forget all 
your kindness, and when I have made 
my way in the world I hope to return to 
find you all happy and prosperous, and 
to take Nellie away with me to share my 
home and position." 

Charles Bradley and Edward "Watson 
had been reared together as brothers 
upon the old farm. The former was 
adopted by Edward's parents when but 
an infant of a few months, being the 
child of farmer Watson's dearest friend, 
who had followed a delicate young wife 
to the grave, leaving the tender babe to 
the care of his friend and neighbor — a 
trust which Mr. and Mrs. Watson had 
willingly accepted, and to which they 
had ever been most faithful. The young 
Charles had grown up bearing his dead 
father's name, but treated with the same 
parental tenderness and affection as Ed- 
ward, who was born a year after his 
adoption, and the fairy-like Nellie, the 
pet of the household, a year and a half 
younger than Edward, now a slight, 
graceful girl of seventeen, with tender 
blue eyes, and a complexion rivalling 
the blended charms of the lily aud the 
rose. Together the three had grown 
from childhood to youth, sharing their 
joys and sorrows, sympathizing in each 
other's hopes and ambitions, and caring 
for nothing so much as contributing to 
one another's happiness. Together they 



had attended the little district school un- 
til they had passed the scope of the in- 
struction it afforded. No berrying trip 
in summer, or nutting in the autumu, no 
coasting time on a moonlight winter 
night afforded pleasure for one without 
the others. But Charles was ever the 
special attendant and protector ot Nel- 
lie. No knight-errant in chivalric ages 
ever manifested more ardent devotion to 
his lady love than that shown fair little 
Nellie by her foster brother Charles. 
They two bad also attended, for a few 
terms, the academy in a neighboring 
town, an educational luxury which few 
of the young people of the neighborhood 
were enabled to^ enjoy, while Edward 
had remained at home, assisting his 
father in the farm work, an occupation to 
which he was ardehtly attached. And 
here was one of the marked points of dif- 
ference between the two boys. YVbnle 
Charles warmly returned the affection of 
his foster parents, and never shirked any 
labor or duty, his heart was not in the 
work when engaged upon the farm. His 
restless spirit longed for contact with the 
world. Farm life was to him a humdrum 
existence, productive of neither honor 
nor satisfaction, and so it had been final- 
ly determined that he should follow his 
desire and find occupation in the city. 
" After haying" he was to go, and the 
time had come. There was one day — 
the Sabbath — only remaining for him at 
home. That day was one long to be re- 
membered by the little household at the 
Watson farm. It was the last, as it 
proved, which the unbroken family were 
to spend together upon earth ; the day, 
too, which brought to Nellie the realiza- 
tion of the fact that her affection for 
Charles was something stronger than a 
sister's love, though the latter had spok- 
en no word of his intense love for her. 
But the day passed, as all days must, the 
evening was soon gone, and when the 
family retired for the night, it was with 
sorrowful thought of the parting which 
the early morn must bring, for the stage 
which was to carry Charles to the rail- 
road station at E , a dozen miles 

away, passed the t; Falls " at seven 

There were no late risers at the Wat- 

son cottage that Monday morning of 
Charles Bradley's departure. While 
Nellie was preparing breakfast, Mrs. 
Watson, with all a mother's thoughtful 
care, attended to the final packing of 
Charles' wardrobe, and many a little ar- 
ticle of comfort and convenience which 
none but a mother would have thought 
of, was snugly stowed away in the big 
trunk which held all the earthly posses- 
sions of the young aspirant for worldly 
position and honor. Mr. Watson, a man 
of three score years and feeble health, 
walked the floor in silence, with sad and 
downcast look, uttering no word of re- 
gret, but evidently feeling as keenly as 
any could the grief of coming. separation 
from him whom he had reared and loved 
as a son, and fain would have kept at 
home through his declining years, though 
consenting to his departure when he 
found the young man's heart was so ar- 
dently set upon going. Edward busied 
himself without, doing up the morning 
work at the barn, and harnessing " Old 
Billy," the favorite family horse, to the 
Concord wagon, to take Charles and his 
baggage to the " Falls " in time to meet 
the stage. 

Charles himself had gone out for a last 
visit to certain favorite localities about 
the farm. He took a run through the Or- 
chard, raised himself once more into the 
top of the old "August sweet" tree, 
from amid whose branches he had year 
after year plucked the first ripe apple of 
the season, passed up the old land to the 
pasture, down through the " west field," 
by the great elm, under whose cooling 
shade he had so often rested from labor 
in the hot summer afternoons, thence 
home through the " south lot," passing 
the t; big rock," around and upon which 
in childhood days, with Edward and Nel- 
lie, he had played many a sportive game. 

Breakfast was soon over. None felt 
like eating, and scarcely a word was 
spoken during the meal. Every heart 
was too full for utterance. And now the 
hour of parting had come. A broken 
"goodbye and God bless you," with a 
hearty hand clasp from Mr. Watson; a 
warm embrace, a tender kiss, and a whis- 
pered benediction from her who had been 
to him all that the truest mother could 



be to her child; then Charles turned to 
look for Nellie. He found her in the old 
sitting-room, nearly convulsed with 

"Nellie, darling, do not cry,'- said 
Charles. " I shall come back ere many 
years, and we shall meet, let me hope, 
not to part again. I love you, Nellie, 
with more than a brother's love. I had 
thought to go with the words unspoken, 
but could not. If you care for me as I 
do for you, the knowledge of the fact 
will encourage and strengthen me more 
than anything else in my efforts to win 
my way to honor and fortune. If you do 
not, cannot give me such return, the fu- 
ture will be cheerless indeed to me, and 
the success I would achieve scarcely 
worth the winning. I ask no promise, 
Nellie ; even if you love me, I would bind 
you with no pledge. But if there is 
ground for hope that I may sometime 
win you for my own, give me some sign 
of encouragement to gladden my heart 
and strengthen my purpose in the long 
days to come, and I shall leave you with 
a cheerful spirit and full confidence of 

He stood by her side and clasped her 
hand, and her drooping head rested upon 
his shoulder as he spoke. Eaising her 
eyes, brimming with tears, and yet filled 
with a joyful light from the assurance 
that the love she had just come to realize 
within her heart was so earnestly recip- 
rocated by Charles, the fair girl said : 

" I love you, dear Charles, with all my 
heart, and will be true to you always." 

His arms were about her in an iustant, 
and she was clasped to his heart. A liu- ' 
gering kiss, a fond farewell, and he was 
gone. Edward was waiting in the wag- 
on at the door; Charles sprang lightly in 
by hi3 side, and they drove away. Few 
words were spoken during the ride to 
the " Falls," where they arrived just as 
the stage was coming in sight. 

"Goodbj-e, Charles," said Edward. 
Keep up your courage whatever happens, 
and when you have seen enough of the 
world and long for the old home com- 
forts and farm life, remember there is 
room for you at home and we shall all 
be glad to have you there." 

" Thank you, Edward. I shall miss 
the home comforts for a time, I have no 
doubt, but am sure I shall never long for 
the farm life, and as for returning, that I 
shall never do till I have made my mark 
in tjje world; but I hope to be with you 
all again ere many years." 

The stage was at hand. The driver 
drew up hi3 horses with a jerk, and, 
springing to the ground, had Charles' 
trunk strapped upon the huge pile behind 
in a moment's time. " All aboard," and 
Charles mounted the box by his side, and 
with a hurried "goodbye" to Edward, 
they were far down the road in a mo- 
ment more. Thus day after day from our 
farmers' homes the young men take their 
departure, some to win renown in other 
fields of labor, others to fail utterly and 
drag out a miserable existence, glad 
when the end shall come ! How will it 
be with Charles?. 


Last night you made complaint against the moon, 
Because the sun had gone and she had come to soon ; 
But now, forsooth, you must upbraid the sun, 
Because he wakes you when your night's begun ! 

—Lucia Moses. 




Dr. Belknap, who wrote his history of 
New Hampshire near the time of the 
Revolutionary war and published it in 
1791, says: "On the first alarm about 
twelve hundred men marched from the 
nearest parts of New Hampshire to join 
their brethren, who had assembled in 
arms about Boston. Of these some re- 
turned; others formed themselves into 
two regiments, under the authority of 
the Massachusetts Convention/' These 
regiments, under the command of John 
Stark and James Reed, were among the 
bravest lighters on Bunker Hill. 

The population of New Hampshire in 
1775 is supposed by Dr. Belknap to have 
been about eighty-two thousand two 
hundred. From this number of inhabi- 
tants the Provincial Congress of New 
Hampshire raised three regiments, con- 
taining, in all. two thousand men. Each 
of these regiments, when full, contained 
at least six hundred and sixty-six men. 
In the Provincial Papers, edited by Dr. 
Bouton, we find a Return of Col. Reed's 
regiment on the fourteenth of June, 1775, 
amounting to six hundred thirty-seven 
men. Of these one hundred and forty- 
nine were unfit for duty. We may rea- 
sonably suppose that additions were 
made to this number by new enlistments 
before the day of battle. I do not find a 
Return of Stark's regiment. He was 
unanimously elected Colonel, by hand 
vote, of a regiment formed at Medford, 
Mass., where the New Hampshire volun- 
teers had assembled. The regiment 
bad ten or twelve companies. The exact 
number is not stated. But doubtless 
Stark's regiment was much larger than 
Reed's, for the people followed him with 
great enthusiasm and delighted to serve 
under him. In a letter written by Gen. 
Stark, on the nineteenth of June, he 
says : " In the morning [of the day of 
battle] I was required to send two hun- 

dred men, with officers," to the aid of 
Col. Prescott. *: About two o'clock in 
the afternoon, express orders came for 
the whole of my regiment to proceed to 
Charlestown to oppose the enemy who 
were landing on Charlestown point." 

"The number of killed, wounded and 
missing of his regiment was sixty: in 
Reed's regiment, thirty-three; total, 
ninety-three. We infer that Stark's reg- 
iment was much the largest of the two. 
Says Bancroft, " Col. John Stark, next 
to Prescott, brought the largest number 
of men into the field." At the com- 
mencement of the action, Prescott's men 
had diminished to seven or eight hun- 
dred. Bancroft concludes that not more 
than fifteen hundred men participated in 
the fight; if so, a majority must have 
been from New Hampshire, for Stark's 
regiment alone so crippled a regiment of 
Welsh fusileers, consisting of seven hun- 
dred men, that on the uext day .only 
eighty-three were fit for duty. If Stark's 
regiment alone disabled six hundred and 
seventeen out of one thousand and fifty- 
four of the British troops killed and 
wounded, the larger part of the fighting 
must have been done by New Hampshire 
men ; and they, too, must have constitut- 
ed the larger part of the troops fit for 
service. According to contemporary 
records, "no one appeared to have any 
command but Col. Prescott;" and he 
gave no orders to New Hampshire men. 
Gen. Pomeroy fought as a private with 
the Connecticut men, and when the men 
left their position " he walked back- 
wards, facing the euemy and brandish- 
ing his musket, till it was struck and 
marked by a ball." The main body of 
American troops had left the hill before 
Knowlton, with the men from Connecti- 
cut, and Stark, with his heroic bund from 
New Hampshire, who had twice repulsed 
the Veterans of Minden, led off their sol- 


diers " in good order I " 

Let us now inquire how American his- 
torians record these facts. After recit- 
ing the fact that Col. Prescott. with 
about one thousand men, including a 
company of artillery with two field 
pieces, had, during the night of June 
lGth, 1775. thrown up a considerable re- 
doubt, Mr. Hildreth proceeds to say: 
11 Such was the want of order in the pro- 
vincial camp, and so little was the appre- 
hension of immediate attack, that the 
same troops, who had been working all 
night, still occupied the intrenchments. 
General Putnam was on the field, but-he 
appears to have had no troops and no 
command." Other historians make Put- 
nam the commander-in-chief on that 
memorable day. He adds : " Two New 
Hampshire regiments, under Stark, ar- 
rived on the ground just before the ac- 
tion began and took up a position on the 
left of the unfinished breastwork, but 
some two hundred yards to the rear, un- 
der an imperfect cover made by pulling 
up the rail fences, placing them in par- 
allel lines a few feet apart and filliug the 
intervening space with new-mown hay, 
which lay scattered on the hill." This 
is all he says of the New Hampshire 
troops; and the phrase above, " under 
Stark," is the only mention of that com- 
mander. This is small credit for the 
part he took in that battle. Col. Reed is 
not named at all; and these two men 
brought on to the hill more than one- 
half of all the available troops there en- 
gaged. Mr. Hildreth gives the British 
loss as one thousand killed or wounded ; 
the Provincial loss was four hundred 
and fifty ; and among the slain was Gen- 
eral Warren. He makes no mention of 
the brave McClary from New Hamp- 

In his account of the battle of Benning- 
ton he is equally forgetful of New Hamp- 
shire. He shows the spirit of a clown in 
the mention of Gen. Stark. He never 
gives him title or honor; but simply 
calls him " Stark," without recognition 
of previous services or present laurels. 
Of the battle of Bennington he says: 
" Langdou, the principal merchant of 
Portsmouth, and a member of the New 
Hampshire Council, having patriotically 

voluntered the means to put them in mo- 
tion, a corps of New Hampshire militia, 
called out upon news of the loss of Ticon- 
deroga, had lately arrived at Bennington 
under the command of Stark." Now, 
who was this Stark? All the informa- 
tion we get is, u that he had resigned his 
commission in the Continental army, and 
having command of the New Hampshire 
militia, declined to obey the order of 
Lincoln to join the main army — a piece 
of insubordination that might have proved 
fatal; but which, in the present case, 
turned out otherwise." How many '* rus- 
tics " followed ** Stark" from New 
Hampshire?- It would be pleasant to 
know how many of our fathers heard and 
obeyed that distant call to duty, and how 
large a share of the glory of one of the 
most important battles of the Revolution 
belonged to them. Mr. Hildreth gives 
no information on these points, and is as 
dry as " a remainder biscuit " in the en- 
tire account of the battle. Only one 
page is given to it I He records " Stark's " 
speech at the beginning of the onset 
thus : " There they are ! " exclaimed the 
rustic general, — u TV'e beat to-day, or 
Sally Stark's a widow ! " 

Bancroft, in his expansive history, em- 
bracing in it the diplomatic history of 
all Europe, is less specific is his account 
of New Hampshire's role in the Revolu- 
tionary war than he is of the history of 
the old Germans as given by Tacitus. 
He says of the battle of Bennington : 
" The supplicatory letter of Vermont to 
the New Hampshire Committee of Safety 
reached Exeter just after the session of 
the legislature, but its members came to- 
gether again on the seventeenth of July, 
promptly resolved to co-operate with 
the troops of the new State, and ordered 
Stark, with a brigade of militia, k to stop 
the progress of the enemy on their west- 
ern frontier.' " This is the most definite 
account we have of what he calls one of 
the most brilliant and eventful victories 
of the war. Langdon, whose patriotism 
fired the hearts, and whose money fur- 
nished the arms and shod the bare feet of 
the New Hampshire volunteers, is not 
mentioned. We should like to know 
how many men constituted that Brigade, 
and how many " Green Mountain Boys," 


and how many men from Western Mas- 
sachusetts, joined them. To whom does 
the honor of that day belong? We are 
only told how the fight was waged, and 
where the assaults were made, and what 
were the results. If Mr. Bancroft had 
examined American State archives more 
and European less, we should have de- 
lighted more in his history. 

Anderson's popular School History of 
the LTnited States, published in 1874, and 
heralded by numerous recommendations 
from men who never read it, confines the 
history of the battle of Bunker Hill to 
less than one page, including in it a 
small map, and makes no mention of 
New Hampshire or her troops in that 
memorable battle. Only Col. Prescott 
and his thousand men are named. Stark 
and Reed, with their two regiments of 
volunteers, are consigned to oblivion. 
Is this the proper method of ^teachiug 
history to the rising generation? 

Goodrich, in his Pictorial History of 
the United States, devotes two pages to 
the battle of Bunker Hill. He mentions 
Col. Prescott and his one thousand men. 
and adds : " The Americans were re-in- 
forced by a body of troops, and by Gen- 
erals Warren, Pomeroy and Putnam. 
The latter, who had just been made a 
Brigadier General, was commander-in- 
chief for the day." This last statement 
has been emphatically denied; and Gen. 
Dearborn, who was present in the fight, 
then a captain, affirms that Putnam had 
no command, and brings charges derog- 
atory to the character of the old wolf- 
killer. Gen. Warren, we know, declined 
his command and served as a private. 
Pomeroy, then an old man of seventy, 
also fought bravely as a private, as men- 
tioned above. But where were Stark 
and Reed? Why was not the greatest 
hero of the day mentioned? Shall such 
writers teach American history to our 
children? In Wilson's History of the 
United States only Col. Prescott is named 
in the battle of Bunker Hill. The re- 
maining description of the events of that 
day are vague, general and unimportant. 
The chief actors are left out. New 
Hampshire has no roll of honor for her 
scholars to read and reverence. Such 

histories might be written from memory 
by any man whohad read the story once. 
Lossing, in his School History of the 
United States, follows the same beaten 
track, escorted by Col. Prescott and his 
one thousaud heroes, but says nothing 
of New Hampshire troops or New Hamp- 
shire officers. He adds in a note that 
during the forenoon of June 17th Gen. 
Putnam brought in about five hundred 
men to reinforce Prescott.' Stark, we 
know, Ixid his own men to the scene of 
action in the afternoon. Here, again, 
New Hampshire is slighted. Eliot's His- 
tor} r of the United States fails to name 
New Hampshire or her brave sons. 
After reciting Prescott's work in the 
night, in raising the redoubt, he says : 
tw Reinforced by a thousand men, they 
partly completed the fortifications in 
time to receive three thousand British 
troops assailing them from Boston." 
Such dry bones are served up for the in- 
tellectual food of the children of New 
Hampshire. These School Histories are 
palmed off upon us by the score, with 
flaming notices ; and yet they all pursue 
the beaten track. They make no new in- 
vestigations, adduce no new facts, cor- 
rect no old errors, and give nothing in re- 
turn for the money received for them. 
Suppose the scholars in our New Hamp- 
shire schools to study one or a score of 
these United States Histories, written 
especially for common schools, what can 
they know of the Revolutionary services 
of their own State, when her great men, 
with a national reputation, are not 
named in connection with the great bat- 
tles in which they formed the controlling 
power? In the two most important bat- 
tles of the Revolution (except York- 
town), Bunker Hill and Bennington, lit- 
tle credit, or none at all, is given to New 
Hampshire troops and New Hampshire 
officers. In the battle of Bunker Hill 
more than half, in that of Bennington 
more than three-fourths of the fighting 
men were from New Hampshire; and in 
neither of those perilous days could the. 
soldiers from other States have main- 
tained the fight half an hour without 
them. Let the records of those glorious 
achievements be reviewed and corrected. 




BY W. E. W. 

Blind was I, love, but mine eyes have been opened 
- Late, oh, too late to bring gladness to thee. 

Now not a token can tell thee that spoken 
Falsely were words which have sent thee from m< 

Pride gave the answer, my heart held its message 
Hidden within, — oh, I knew it not thenl 

After thy wronging, revealing its longing, 
Love was born unto thee, noblest of men. 

Come o'er the sea, come back. I implore thee! 

Must I thus ever my folly deplore? 
Make no delaying, cease from thy straying, 

Thine am I, mine art thou, love, evermore ! 

Vain my confession, and vain is my crying; 

Naught but the moan of the ocean replies. 
Nothing but sorrow awaits my to-morrow, 

Pride may die undeplored, love never dies. 

Must we thus suffer together, forever. 
Never a balm nor a healing hand find? 

Oh, 'twas my doing, and, love, 'tis our rueing ; 
Better that both had been blind, yes, blind. 



This was the name of the great inter- in 1764, and was on the direct road to 

vals on the Connecticut River at Haver- those places. The other neighboring 

hill, New Hampshire, and vicinity. They towns were not settled till a few years 

were so called by the Indians, and the after, and the grantees who held the 

word was variously spelled, Chohass, charters were naturally anxious as to 

Cowass, Coossuck, Co:os, Coos. the value of the land, and numerous par- 

At the close of the old French war, ties from Southern New Hampshire went 

this land, the most fertile in New Eng- up to view the country, 

land, was eagerly sought after, and Gov. Col. John Goffe of Bedford and his 

Benning Wentworth enriched himself by friends had a charter of a township on 

making numerous grants of townships the Passumpsic Piver, in Vermont, and 

on both sides of the river. Hundreds of in the fall of 1764 he sent Matthew 

town charters were issued about 1700, Patten and Dea. llobert Walker to look 

1765. and Haverhill and Newbury were at it. 

settled in 1761. Plymouth was settled Mr. Patten was an able man. He was 



born in Ireland, May 19, 1719, came to 
America in 172$, and to Bedford in 173S. 
He held the office of Justice of the Peace 
until his death, was Judge of Probate, 
Governor's Councillor, a member of the 
General Court two years, and he held all 
the offices in the gift of his townsmen. 
He was also a good surveyor. 

Mr. Patten set out in October, and was 
gone six weeks and three days. He kept 
an interesting journal during that time. 
It gives a good idea of the roads or rath- 
er paths that then led to that almost un- 
known region, the time it took to reach 
it, nearly two weeks, the journey can be 
made by railroad in live hours now, the 
cost and manner of traveling, the charac- 
ter of the lodgings on the route, the 
names of many of the early settlers, who 
preached there, and some of the wild 
game that was found in the woods. His 
journal* has never before been published 
as we are aware, having recently been 
found in an old trunk once his, and is as 
follows : 

A journal of Deacon Bobert Walker's 
& Matthew Patten's journey from Bedford 
to up Beezumsuck Biver in Oct'r & Xovbr 

October 15th 1764 Set out and arived 
at Pennykook and Lodged at Mirs Os- 

16th got Pork and some other Arti- 
cles we wanted for our journey and arived 
at Mr Bowins in Bakerstown 

17th We set out before sun rise and 
arived within about 5 or 6 miles of Ply- 
mouth and Campt 

18th We arived at Mr Zechariah Par- 
kers on Bakers River and Lodged there 

19th We intended to sent home the 
Boy and horse but omited it by it being 
a very Rainy day 

20th the morning still wet but we had 
Some thoughts of sending him away but 
had the promise of Company if he tarried 
untili the next morning and this Even- 
ing Mr Ward came to Town in order to 
preach to morrow. 

21st The Company would not set out 

•It is now in possession of John A. and 
Isaac N. Riddle of Bedford. 

being Sabath day but went and heard 
Mr Ward. 

22d Went to Capt Ilobarts Camp and 
fitted of the boy and returned to Mr Par- 
kers and moved to Mr Jotham Cumings ; 

23d & 24th Tarried att Mr Cumingses 
and Hunted. 

25th After fitting our Packs Set out 
for Chohass. Traveled up Bakers River 
as far as we could and Campt in the 
night it began to Snow that by next 
morning it was some Depth 

26th yt Continued to Snow all Day 
The Snow was very Wet and Hung in 
abundance on the trees and bushes 

27th & 23th the snow being froze on 
the trees and bushes so that it did not 
fall off any and the trees and limbs were 
constantly breaking off and tumbling 
down and we lay by and could not March 
forward The Snow was 7 inches deep on 
the Low land and very solid 

29th being Monday Set out Early in 
the morning aud when we came to Cho- 
hass Road met with a number of men and 
horses & Cattle Carrying one Mr Locks 
family to Chohass which was a great 
help to us in Breaking the path on the 
high land the snow was harder, we 
arived at the 15 mile tree and Campt 

30th We arived at Maj'r Tapplines 
two or three hours after dark the first 
house in Chohass after the hardest days 
march that perhaps ever we traviled and 
Exceedingly fateagued 

31st After breakfast went up the Riv- 
er to Col : Bailys and the Col : was not at 
Home the afternoon tryed for a Cannoe 

November 1st Spent the forenoon try- 
ing for a Cannoe but cou'd not get one 
in the afternoon fell a white pine to make 

2d & 3d Workt at our Cannoe. 

4th Sabath day lay by 

5 & 6th Workt at our Cannoe Was 
hindered because we could not get pro- 
vision to march as soon as we cou'd have 
been ready. 

7th In the forenoon finished our Can- 
noe and padles and after Dinner set off 
up the river and got above the Goose 
Islands and Campt in the night rained 



hard so that we had to strech a blanket 

8th We went a Little above the mouth 
of Amunoosuck Paver to a Camp it 
rained all day before we got to the 
Camp we were very much wet and lay 
the night following 

9th Set up the river early in the morn- 
ing and went up a smart pair of Falls 
and got in Sight of another pair and 

10th Set up again early and went up 
three pair of falls this day and between 
sunset and dark arived at the mouth of 
Peezumsuck River Campt on an island 

11th being Sabath day it began to 
Snow We searched and found some 
bark that an Indian had peel'd and we 
peel'd some White burch bark and erect- 
ed a Camp it snowed all day and John 
Lahee came and Campt with us 

12th We borrowed Lahees burch bark 
Caunoe and went up Peezumsuck as far 
as we could so as to get back that night 
it was an hour or two after dark before 
we got to our Camp 

13th Went up Conecticut River and 
found the Corner between the River 
towns that we were to run from and run 
as far as we could for Iluricane and Snow 
on the bushes so that we see where about 
we should cross Peezumsuck and re- 
turned to Camp 

14 Set up Peezumsuck on foot for we 
could not take our Cannoe by reason of 
Exceeding Steep and Great falls trav- 
iled up we suppossed 10 or 12 miles aLd 

loth & 16th Spent in viewing the 
Country we went up the river as far 
as the first Crotch and back of the river 
and returned to our Camp at the mouth 
of the river the Wether Exceeding 
Cold we crossed the mouth of the Pee- 
zumsuck on the Ice the river was froze 
over in general and Snow ancle Deep 

17th We set off for home and traviled 
the most of the day on ice could go from 
point to point of land in General. 

18th being Sabath day we got in to 
Col : Bailys by night Crost the mouth 
of Amunuzsuck on the ice 

19th & 20th fitted out with Provis- 
ion? and camo to Maj'r Tappling and 

lodged there that night 

21st Set out and came as far as the 10 
mile tree and Campt 

22d lay by 

23d Traviled 12 miles to Capt Brain- 
ards camp in Rumney 

24th Came to Capt Hobarts camp in 
Plymouth and Campt 

25th being Sabath day Traviled IS 

26th Came to Boscawen and lodged at 
Capt Fowlers 

27 Came to Capt Tods and lay there 

28th Came home. 

Math'w Patten 
Robert Walker 

Mr. Patten also kept a diary for many 
years and we extract from it the follow- 
ing further information about **Cho- 
hass," as he was pleased to spell it: 

" 1764 Oct. loth I set out with Deacon 
Robert Walker to go and view a town- 
ship above Cohass that Col : Gofle is get- 
ting and arived at Pennkook and lodged 
at Mirs Osgoods 

16th I lodged at Bo wins at Bakers- 

18th Ariv'd at Plymouth 

25th We set out from Plymouth to go 
Co : os and Campt over Bakers River and 
afterwards was Informed that my moth- 
er Departed this life about Midnight af- 
ter a considerable lingering Illness 

26th It fell a snow at Bakers River of 
7 inches deep Exceeding wet and Solid 
and we built a Camp 

27th My mother was interd and we 

28th was Sabath day we lay by 

29th We proceeded on our journey in 
Company with Mr Locks family and 
Campt at the 15 mile tree 

30th We arived at Co : 03 and lodged 
at Maj'r Tapplins 

31st ariv'd at Col: Bayleys and tar- 
ried there untill the 7th of November in 
which time we made a Log Canno 

November 7th Set up Conecticut 

10th We arived at the mouth of the 


Peezunusuek River and Search'd the land 
until! the 16th at night 

17th The River was froze so that we 
could not move our Canno & left her in 
the mouth of Peezumsuck River and Set 
out on foot for Co : os 

ISth ariv'd at Col : Bayleys 

20th Came to Maj'r Tapplins and 
lodged there 

21th Set out for home and Campt at 
the 1 mile tree ' 

24th ariv'd at Plymouth and lodged 
at Ens'n Hobarts Camp 

2Sth ariv'd home home about the mid- 
dle of the day I was absent 6 weeks aud 
3 days we spent about a week in Hunt- 
ing and we Catch'd 5 Beaver and a Sap- 
pie While I was at Peezumsuck River I 
sold my traps te John Lahee for a Gun 
and a pair of Silver Buckles and pay us 
Beaver skin which I got aud took his 
note of hand for 12 saple skins or their 
full value in money to be paid on de- 
mand with interest at 10 pr. cent pr an- 
num untill paid Which note I left with 
Maj'r Tapplin of Co : os to receive for me 
when Lahee came in our Entertainment 
at Col : Bayleys and what Provisions we 
Carried out with us came to 2 : 3 : 6 
Lawful money being 7 1-4 Dollars which 
he had advanced to us on an order from 
Col : Goffe which acct. we Settled and 
Signed a Receipt on the back of the order 
to the amount of 2 : 2 : Lawful mon- 
ey and brought a bill from under his 
hand for the Charge" 


Mr. Patten surveyed the town of Pier- 
ruont in 1765. and tbe following from hi3 
diary will be of interest to those who 
may be acquainted with the " Chohass " 
country : 

" 1765. September. 

25th I set out for Chohass to help lay 
out Piermont and arived at Pennykook 

and lodged at Mirs Osgoods and I bor- 
rowed 1 pound and the weight of six 
spoons of pewter from Deacon Gilmores 

26th I received 12 £ old Tenor from 
Mrs McMillen that Col : Goffe left for 
me and I bo't some Pork and other thiugs 
I wanted for to carrie me over the woods 
and I arived at Bakerstowu and Lodged 
at Calls 

27th I arived at Lieut. Browns in Ply- 
mouth and Lodged there 

2Sth It rained all the fore part of the 
day in the afternoon I arived at Jotham 
Cumings the uppermost house in Ply- 
mouth and Lodged there 

29 was Sabath day and I had a Sore 
on the Sole of my right foot that I was 
lame and lay by 

30th I set out and got a little more than 
3 miles beyond Bakers river Falls in the 
new road and I Campt and Col : Greeley, 
Esqrs. Webster & Bartlett and one Fage 
came to me and Campt with me 

1st I arived at Cohass about one or 
two o'clock in the afternoon. Lodged 
at Mr Atkinson in Haverhill 

2d I went to surveying in Piermont 

21st I finished laying out what was 
proposed to be laid out 

22d We got our things and some pro- 
visions to last us home got to Mr Ladds 
the last house on our way in Co : os 

23d Set off Early in the morning and 
arived at Capt Brainards' Camp in Rum- , 

24th We came a mile on this side of 
Smith's River 

25th We arived at Pennykook and 
Lodged at Mirs Osgoods Lieut Martins 
Expenses and mine there was £5 

26th Came home in the Evening." 





Among the many patriotic addresses 
that have come to our notice since the 
dawn of our national centennial era. 
there is one that affords a sentiment of 
inestimable value to the rising genera- 
tion. A certain speaker said, in sub- 
stance : " The people of the American 
colonies did not rebel against society." 
It is another way of saying social organ- 
ization was not ignored in the scheme of 
American independence. Indulging more 
elaborate expression, it means the attri- 
butes of culture, refinement and wisdom, 
in both their personal and symbolic char- 
acters, were intentionally endowed with 
their legitimate social prominence. The 
founders of American liberty meant that 
the wisest, noblest and best should exe- 
cute the functions of authority and be 
surrounded by the proper insignia of law- 
ful and chaste government. In this re- 
spect the founders of our liberty were 
not rebellious against the traditions of 
their fathers. Yet the fathers of our 
country had in potential intellectual re- 
serve at least, if not in full, actual, men- 
tal expression, a distinctive idea of 
human government, for the maintenance 
of which they risked *• their lives, their 
•fortunes and their sacred honor." It was 
the idea of elective, individual representa- 
tion in government. Observe the em- 
phasis. An individual interest may be 
represented in the governing social com- 
pact by proxy, but without election. In 
the hope of securing election, our fathers 
cast their fortuues upon the tide of war. 

Though a successful fulfillment of the 
ends of government demands virtue, the 
founders of our republic assumed that 
the people were virtuous enough to effect 
it. Though the execution ot the func- 
tions of government requires wisdom, 
the framers of our political system al- 
lowed that the masses were wise enough 
{o maintain it. Yet, though virtue and 

wisdom were accredited with a potential 
residence in the common breast of hu- 
manity, it was the practical assertion of 
the fathers of our country that neither of 
these two qualities could express them- 
selves without the developing processes 
implied in combined intellectual and 
moral culture; the collective and indi- 
vidual elective force could be exerted 
only in the channels afforded by a prac- 
tical comprehension of the *• wisdom of 
this world." Hence arose the public 
free schools, so many times avowed to be 
the peculiar safeguard of our national in- 

The foregoing brief review of fundamen- 
tal principles asserts the rational absurd- 
ity of interpreting our political system 
to be in any sense a protest against the 
rational unity of the national social com- 
pact. It rather declares the acknowl- 
edged privilege of the individual to bear 
allegiance to the scepter of American 
constitutional liberty. Because the gov- 
ernment is the structure of one's own co- 
parcenary erection, his pride in and de- 
votion to its integrity is only the more 
natural and legitimate expression of that 
true citizenship which is ever the test of 
disinterested loyalty. Shall a man re- 
fuse to cherish the wife he has freely 
taken to his bosom, or neglect to inspire 
by correct example the children he has 
begotten from his own loins? 

An expression of true loyalty, how- 
ever, implies more than a mere passive 
obedience to law in the execution of the 
functions of the common citizen. It 
means that abhorrence of usurped privi- 
leges that will cause a man to blush at 
the thought of prostituting his manhood 
at the threshold of mercenary political 
favor. True American citizenship is 
like the apostolic "gift of God " that 
" cannot be purchased with money." 
Happy will it be for the American nation 



if no existing popular depravity requires 
the opposite " gall of bitterness " to be 
sensibly revealed! Will a man render 
the state the obedience required of a cit- 
izen? Let him do it as one who freely 
discharges a duty he owes to himself, 
looking to himself for his reward. Is a 
man qualified for the discharge of the 
functions of an official servant of the 
commonwealth? Let him show his ca- 
pacity by his improved social walk and 
conversation, waiting upon an intelli- 
gent and free people for their approval 
and appreciation. By no means the least 
of all, let every citizen especially ac- 
knowledge and honor that personal in- 
tegrity with which an individual has ful- 
filled the duties of public position. 

We have spoken incidentally of our 
free schools. We would speak further 
of them. A sovereign must of necessity 
possess culture. Every American citi- 
zen is a sovereign. Every American citi- 
zen should possess culture. Our com- 
mon schools should be eminent means of 
culture. However, we do not use the 
term culture synonymously with the ex- 
pression thorough education in the sciences 
and classics, implying a consummation 
we regard as utterly impossible to the 
indiscriminate capacities of the masses 
of any nation. Still we mean that every 
child of the republic should become in- 
formed in regard to the practical laws 
governing the individual, the nation and 
the world in essential harmony. We 
wish we could avoid the unhappy sug- 
gestion implied in the statement— unless 
we can secure this degree of common 
culture, we may not realize our peculiar 
anticipation as a people. 

To mention a law the lessons of human 
history teach us to be true, the possibili- 
ty of the development of a great ruler 
out of the humblest citizen does not im- 
ply the potential endowment of that pos- 
sibility in the person* of every individual. 
Now, as ever, rulers, though sometimes 
developed from cruder individual possi- 
bilities, are born, not simply made. Xo 
nation on earth may expect to contra- 
vene this law. Hence the importance of 
careful, intelligent and deliberate selec- 
tion of men to fill the offices of public 
trust. We may further suggest, the nat- 

ural production of persons of potential 
public executive capacity seems hardly 
sufficient to warrant the too great multi- 
plication of offices. Does history show 
that any generation has produced many 
good rulers, though in every age num- 
bers have tried the experiment of gov- 
erning? We submit to the mind of the 
intelligent reader whether it may not be 
that a part, to say the least, of our pres- 
sent national difficulties arises from the 
fact we have more offices than we have 
men of adequate capacity to fill them. 
Think of the multitude of offices, every 
one legitimately demanding a good deal 
of intelligent governing capacity, fre- 
quently crowded into the executive de- 
partments of one small township, before 
you answer the question. 

We will pass the consideration of the 
fact we have men in our nation who 
would not only have a great ruler to pre- 
side over the destinies of our forty mil- 
lions of inhabitants, but would change 
him every four years, or six years at 
most, and will not ask how good rulers 
are to be found, proved and changed so 

In a closing profession of our faith in 
the intelligent possibilities of elective 
representative government, we will 
briefly state a few of the elementary con- 
ditions entering into our ideal. There 
should be an erection of graded offices, 
invested with proper dignity and honor, 
sufficient in number to fulfill the wants 
of the nation, and none to satisfy the 
greed of a selfish partisanship. All offi- 
ces should be filled by men whose nat- 
ural adaptation, intelligence and integri- 
ty are beyond reasonable question. In 
other than cases of manifest inability, 
malfeasance, resignation or death, the 
individual should be allowed to retain an 
office for a term of years lengthened in 
proportion to the importance and honor 
of the positiou. Stated assemblies of the 
people and of their legislators should be 
held for the supply of vacant offices, 
election of new incumbents, and other 
legitimate purposes of free government. 
There "should be actual or provisionary 
supplies for ad interim purposes on the 
occasion of unexpected vacations of 
office. The intelligent reader cannot 

213 - HEAHT AND I. 

fail to see that by this plan not merely graded, and the more subordinate ones of 
the law itself, but the more permanent shorter terms, the opportunities of sup- 
availability of the men who can best ful- pressing incompetency are abundantly 
fill the law, is the desideratum in vogue ; adequate. 
it is also apparent that, the offices being 



Singing, singing through the valleys ; 

Singing, singing up the hills ; 
Peace that comes, and Love that tarries, 

Hope that cheers, and Faith that thrills, 
Heart and I, are we not blest 
At the thought of coming rest? 

Singing, singing 'neath the shadow; 

Singing, singing in the light; 
Plucking flowerets from the meadow, 
t Seeing beauty up the height, 

Heart and I, are we not gay 
Thinking of unclouded day? 

Singing, singing through the summer; 
v Singing, singing in the snow; 
Glad to hear the brooklets murmur, 

Patient when the wild winds blow, 
Heart and I, can we do this ? 
Yes, because of future bliss. 

Singing, singing up to Heaven; 

Singing, singing down to earth ; 
Unto all some good is given. 

Unto all there cometh worth; 
Heart and I, we sing to know 
That the good God loves us so. 





Will Sears was a gentleman — every- 
body said so, and what everybody says 
(as the little boy remarked of his mother) 
11 is so, if 'tain't so ! " Honest and up- 
right in all his business transactions — 
polite and gentlemanly to every one who 
had the pleasure of his acquaintance — 
even kind and considerate to the little 
ones who blockaded his pathway. Xone 
tipped the hat with more grace than he 
when he met the ladies, stooped with 
more gallantry to pick up their fallen 
kerchiefs, or apologized with more be- 
witching regrets for a tread upon their 
flowing skirts ! — oh, they thought him a 
jewel of a man! 

But there was one who never received 
these little marks of politeness— the hat 
never tipped when passing her on the 
sidewalk — the knee never bent to return 
the missing handkerchief— her long train 
was u always in the way " when his holy 
feet chanced to rest upon it — and why? 
Oh ! she was " only his wife ! " She took 
charge of his domestic little nest; reared 
him beautiful children ; was willing to 
sacrifice strength and happiness — a}-e, life 
itself, were she conscious it would add to 
his pleasure ; while he — provided for her 
physical wants ; clothed her body with 
Suitable garments, and when sickness 
overtook her, provided her wuth a physi- 
cian and a nurse to administer to her 
wants— absenting himself on a plea of 
11 business," and mentally excusing him- 
self by saying: 

" How silly 'twould be to be loving 
and polite to her, only ray wife ! " 

She saw the difference, struggling 

bravely to win to herself those little at- 
tentions which she saw others eagerly 
gathering up — for the "littles" it is 
which make up the sum of a woman's 
happiness — using more care to beautify 
her personal appearance — making home 
more attractive by renewed attentions, 
and answering with loving readiness 
every requirement to his happiness. But 
all to no purpose ! and by-and-by she be- 
gan to realize that she was " only his 
wife ! " The roses began to fade upon 
her once handsome cheeks, the fresh 
blush grew dim upon her loving lips, 
while she drooped and hungered for the 
food upon which others subsisted ! They 
would wonder why she smiled so sadly, 
giving back an answering sigh to their 
congratulations of her possessing such a 
fine, geutlemanly husband. They could, 
not lift the veil of mystery — only two 
could loop back its corners and peep be- 
yond — she, w T hose heart it covered, and 
He who watches from His throne in the 
heavens ! 

After a little the Angel came and 
dropped the curtain upon the closing 
scene, and tears bedewed a new-made 
grave under the willow ! 

Do virtues like these go unrewarded? 
Changes go by reverses, we are told — 
therefore wait patiently until Father 
Time shall have raised the curtain again, 
and Mrs. Sears, Jr., comes upon the 
stage, and tlien— we'll have the pleasure 
of seeing his hair combed with a three- 
legged stool! 

Encore, if you please! 




The first settlement in 
included within the limits of Dunstable, 
was made October, 1G73. For nearly 
sixty years from that date, there is no 
information leading us to suppose a 
school of any kind was kept within the 
-precints of the township. 

This apparent neglect should not be at- 
tributed to a want of interest iu the mat- 
ter of education, but to the many difficul- 
ties surrounding a frontier town. Iudian 
wars were constantly occurring; the in- 
habitants dwelt in garrisons ; and the 
settlement was every day liable to an at- 
tack from the wily enemy. 

The dense forest, where the quiet of 
the school-room might be broken at any 
moment by the yell of the savage, was 
no fitting place for helpless children; 
moreover, the few inhabitants were scat- 
tered over a wide extent of territory ; — 
but even in these perilous times home 
instruction was probably not neglected. 

Dunstable at this time was within the 
limits of Massachusetts, and subject to 
her laws. In 1730 the town was indicted 
for not maintaining a school as required 
by law. The town at this time probably 
contained fifty householders, the number 
requisite for a grammar school, accord- 
ing to the law of 1G47. 

To comply with this law, in November 
of the same year the town voted that ""it 
be left with the selectmen to provide and 
agree with a person to keep a writing- 
school in the town directly, and that the 
sum of ten pounds be granted and raised 
for defraying the charges. ' 1 

In those days there were no school dis- 
tricts, no school committee: the select- 
men managed the schools. Here we find 
the first mention of a school in this 
town ; but whether the proposed writing- 
school was ever kept is uncertain, as no 
allusion to this or any other school is 
made for about sixteen years. 

[From, the X. H. School Pweport of 1S76.] 

Nashua, then 

The town was rent by religious feuds, 
and harrassed by Indian warfare. Mer- 
rimack, Hollis, and other towns were 
incorporated out of Dunstable. 

Sept. 29, 1746, the firsc year the town 
acted under a New Hampshire charter, 
we find the following record : 

" Voted that a schoolmaster be hired 
to teach children to read and write until 
next March, also voted that two places 
be appointed for the school to be kept at, 
also voted that one place be at the house 
of John ^earles if it can be had for that 
purpose, and the other place at the house 
of Mr. James Gordon where John Mc- 
Clure now lives, also voted that the 
school be kept at John Searles House the 
first half of the time agreed to hire." 

The house of John Searles occupied the 
site, or nearly, where Mr. Noah Searles 
now lives, near Salmon brook and Dun- 
stable. Mass. The Gordon house men- 
tioned here was situated near Reed's 
pond in the town of Merrimack. 

It would appear from the records that 
some years there w r ere schools, and oth- 
ers none, Three years later a more ex- 
tended arrangement was made for this 
object, as follows: " July 24, 1749. Voted 
to hire a school for eight months and that 
three months part thereof be improved 
the north side Nashua river in two 
places ; one, the most convenient place 
near Indian Head, and one in some con- 
venient place at one pine hill ; and that 
two months be kept in the middle of the 
inhabitants between Nashua river and 
the Province line; and that the other 
three months be kept the one half at the 
south end and one half at the north end 
to be determined by the committe to be 
chosen, the most convenient place for 
that purpose; also voted and chose 
Messrs. John Snow, Ephruim Butterfield 
and Ephraim Adams a committee to hire 
for the school and to determine the 



places as aforesaid, and to draw the mon- 
ey to pay those charges out of the town 
treasury. Also voted that 140 pounds be 
voted for payment of the schools as 

This seems to be the begining of five 
districts, as subsequent records direct 
the selectmen to divide the town into dis- 
tricts as has been in times past ; — here, 
also, is the first mention of a school com- 

Soon after this the French war com- 
menced, and the frontier was constantly 
exposed to Indian attacks, and for twelve 
years no mention is made of schools ; 
either there were none, or they were 
kept at irregular intervals, and without 
much expense to the town. 

ki Oct. 19, 1761. Voted that one hun- 
dred pounds, new tenor, be raised and 
assessed on the polls and estates in the 
town to hire schooling and houses for 
that end in the several quarters of this 
town and that the selectmen do it.'' 

Almost every year from this date more 
or less money was raised for schools. and 
we may well suppose that no subsequent 
year passed without a term of school kept 
within the town. 

The amount of money raised varied 
from 20 to 200 pounds per year, or more. 

It would be very interesting to know r 
the names of the teachers, the salaries re- 
ceived, their joys, their sorrows; but the 
grave that covers their bodies conceals 
also their names and fortunes. Every 
modern teacher knows their anxieties, 
their ardent love for those beneath their 

A little item, bearing date Nov. 3, 1760, 
states that the account of John Snow for 
keeping school the previous winter, be- 
ing £2 8s. lawful money, be allowed. 

In 1772 Joseph Dix was school-master, 
and he continued to teach in town for 
many years : this year the town refused 
to raise money for erecting school-houses, 
and not until 1775 did such a vote pre- 
vail. Previous to this time a room in 
some private house served as a school- 
room. Probably some are now living, 
in this and other towns, who can remem- 
ber when they attended school in a 
neighbor's sitting-room, and the teacher 
boarding M round." But the men of 75 

thought it better the school should have 
a M local habitation and a name." and 
voted that " a school-house be built in 
each of the several districts, and that 
eighty pounds be raised for the purpose." 
The districts referred to here are proba- 
bly the same divisions indicated hereto- 
fore. The first school-house erected in 
town was located near the old burial- 
ground in the south part of the town, on 
the hill just north of Spit brook. This 
was subsequently replaced by another 
near the site now r occupied by the brick 
building of modern architecture, bearing 
date of 1841. The records of this district 
have been well preserved for about sev- 
enty years. In 1811 Thomas French, 
Esq., who seems to have been a very 
prominent man, " bid off the master at 
SI. 30 per week." In 1812 the master was 
paid, for keeping school eleven weeks 
and one day, boarding himself, S50. 25, or 
$4.50 per week; and the mistress, for 
keeping fourteen weeks, §14.00, while 
Thos. French, Esq., received $14.00 for 
boarding her. 

Another school-house of the last cen- 
tury was situated near the residence of 
Dea. Swallow. This was called the Gas- 
co district, and here Hon. Amos Kendall, 
postmaster-general under Gen. Andrew 
Jackson, received his early education. 

A third old school-house was situated 
south of the old church, and a little north 
of Mr. Alfred Godfrey's, on the Lowell 
road. This, too, has long since been re- 
placed by a neat structure adapted to the 
wants of the present times.' 

Near the beginning of the present cen- 
tury, 1804, Mr. David Wallace taught 
here, and continued his labors until 1812. 
A little incident will illustrate his won- 
derful abilities as a pedagogue: An as- 
piring youth, after much, study, carried 
the word ''spermaceti" to the master 
for the correct pronunciation. Examin- 
ing the word very carefully, and with 
due deliberation, he at length, said, "You 
may call that ' spermaketi.' " Our es- 
teemed citizen, the late Gen. Hunt, at- 
tended school here many years, and could 
well remember his useless endeavors to 
keep warm on the " Cold Friday " of 

In 1796 the town voted to raise £200 



for the purpose of building school-houses 
in this town : also, chose David Alld. Na- 
than Fisk, Frederic French, Albert 
Roby, and James Jewell, a committee to 
settle or lix upon a place to build a 
school-house in each district in this town, 
provided such district cannot agree 
among themselves. 

So the good people of the last century 
had some difficulty in deciding upon the 
most appropriate place for the new 
houses, as well as those of to-day. 

How many school-houses were erected 
in accordance with this vote, or how 
many with that of 1775, does not appear. 

Almost every year since 1S02 the town 
has voted to raise more monej* than the 
law requires for the support of schools, — 
thus showing its interest in the cause. 

Dunstable felt the importance of hav- 
ing singing taught in the public schools 
as early as 1810. In that year the town 
voted to raise $50 for the purpose of 
teaching a singing-school. 

The district just north of the river was 
called for many years the Nashua dis- 
trict. Here, previous to 1816, the 
schools were kept in private houses; 
sometimes in one part. of the district, 
again in another. The teacher, of course, 
"boarded round*' and thus "fared 
sumptuously every day." In 1S16 the 
district voted to build a school-house in 
the fork of the two Concord roads, as 
near as convenient north of the tavern ; 
or on the spot now occupied by the ele- 
gant residence of General Stark. 

One year later, the good people felt 
the importance of carefully preserving 
the new house, and accordingly passed 
the following vote : 

" That the committee who may here- 
after be chosen to hire a schoolmaster or 
mistress, give instructions to the said 
master or mistress to observe that the 
scholars do not cut or in any way deface 
the seats or writing-benches, or any part 
of the school-house." 

In a few years this house became alto- 
gether too small to accommodate the in- 
creasing population. Consequently, in 
1833, the house was moved back on what 
is now called Rural street, enlarged, and 
arranged in two rooms. 

.Schools are frequently the scenes of 

trouble and sorrow. To remedy some 
difficulties not now known, in 1S40 this 
rule was adopted : " That parents, and 
those dissatisfied with the management 
of the school, shall state their grievances 
to the prudential committee, or to the 
teacher out of school hours." 

Soon after this, other houses were 
erected, to accommodate the increasing 
wants of the village. 

Daniel Abbott, Esq., was very promi- 
nent in advancing the interests of the 
schools in this district, and, after the 
usual amount of opposition was encoun- 
tered, he, with several others, succeeded 
in securing a beautiful lot, and causing to 
be built a new house, known as the Mt. 
Pleasant High School. The house was 
erected in 1S49, and gave a new impetus 
to the cause of education in this vicinity. 
Four years ago this building gave place 
to the present structure. 

In 1869 this ceased to bear the name 
High School, but assumed and still bears 
the name of Mt. Pleasant Grammar 

In 1S25 the town of Dunstable voted to 
form a new school district, including all 
the lands owned by the Nashua Manu- 
facturing Company south of the Nashua 
river, excepting the Hale farm. A 
school-house was immediately erected on 
Pearl street, a little back of the present 
brick house; and doubtless many are 
now living who can well remember the 
huge triangle in front, used, muezzin 
like, to call the children to school. 

Mainly through the efforts of Rev. 
Daniel March, a high school building 
was secured for this district in 1S53, 
located on Main street. A course of 
study was arranged, and the school com- 
menced in the early part of September, 
1853. The principals were as follows: 
M. C. Stebbins, elected in 1S53;H. A. 
Littell, 1858; S. M. Freeland, 1859; R. 
C. Stanley, 1860; M. W. Tewksbury, 
1865; Mary Gillis, 1867; T. W. II. Hus- 
sey, 1867. This building has been re* 
modelled, and is now* occupied by the 
lower grades. 

In 1826 another district was formed, 
embracing the landsowncd and occupied 
by C. C. Flanens, Esq., and the proprie- 
tors of the Indian Head Factories, bor- 


dering upon the Nashua river. This is Any historical sketch of the schools of 
called the Belvidere School. Nashua would be defective, unless it in- 
Upon the division of the town in 1S42 eluded some mention of the Xashua Lit- 
the districts were somewhat changed; erary Institute. This flourishing school 
also, again, when the city charter was was established in 1S35, and since 1540 
granted in 1S53. has been under the immediate manage- 
By act of the legislature in 1SG9 the ment of Prof. David Crosby, 
districts were abolished. This step im- Many of the prominent men of Xashua 
proved the schools more than any other and the surrounding towns attribute their 
one thing. success in life to the faithful instruction 
In 1874 a new High and Grammar of this noble mau. Few teachers have 
school-house was erected on Spring labored in the cause so many years, or 
street, whither the high school was re- proved themselves more worthy, 
moved in April, 1875. 



'Tis after the uplands and meadows are mown, 
When song-birds have mated, and builded, and flown, 
And leaves of the maple drop silently down 
To carpet the meads with their crimson and brown ; 
And first the faint hues of the ripening year 
Do shadow full autumn, crisp, yellow and sere. 
When beauty seems changing for harvest of worth, 
The cricket is heard in his song on the hearth. 

When oceans recede 'neath the land-blown breeze, 
O'erladen with fragrance from evergreen trees, 
And the squirrel's sharp chatter is heard far aboon, 
The gloom of the wood at the heat-oppressed noon; 
While the mischievous jay half-derisively yells, 
Or plaintively calls to his mate in the dells ; 
When melodies vernal are hushed of their mirth, 
The cricket's low cadence is heard on the hearth ; 

Bespeaking content'mid the jarring and strife, 
A note of repose ? mid the discord of life ; 
Low murmur of promise to servants of toil, 
Ere yet they have gathered the fruits of the soil; 
A strain to disperse the vexed cares of the day ; 
Of the largess of years to open the way, 
Or lull to their slumbers the wearied of earth, — 
This song of the cricket is heard on the hearth. 



In no year of the recent past have the 
American people in all States and sec- 
tions had such substantial cause for gen- 
uine thanksgiving as in this year of our 
Lord 1S77. Politicians of all parties may 
enunciate their grievances, but there are 
two simple facts standing out in bold re- 
lief, which, together, are sufficient to 
justify the most general and hearty 
thanksgiving observances. The harvest 
has been rich and abundant in every part 
of the land. There is bread enough and 
to spare, and the overflowing wealth of 
our granaries, finding a ready market in 
Europe, is turning the balance of trade, 
so long against us, in our favor. 

Secondly, the country is at peace. 
Sectional hostility has subsided. Each 
State is in control of its own domestic 
affairs, and general business prosperity 
promises to follow restored local self- 
government and fraternity between the 

The earnest of better times to come, 
irrespective of party advantage or disas- 
ter, cannot be mistaken. 

A correspondent. " F," suggests the 
inquiry — " What are the advantages of- 
fered at agricultural colleges that farm- 
ers do not appreciate?'' In connection, 
li F" makes the following statement of 
fact or opinion: t; When the student of 
medicine receives his diploma, he is pre- 
pared to earn his living by his acquired 
knowledge. When the practical mechan- 
ical student leaves his master, it is with 
a knowledge of his trade that may be 
coined into money. The boy who fol- 
lows his father upon the farm, keeping 
in the ruts his father made, learning, dur- 
ing his minority, the frugal habits of his 
ancestors, may live as they have lived, 
uncultured as he may be. But send the 
farmer's son to Hanover and keep him 
there through an agricultural course, and 
what is he fitted for when he leaves with 
his diploma? Xot for the ruts his father 
made — not for contentment in the frugal 
habits of his sire ! Xor does he take wit h 
him a knowledge of his profession that 
will enable him to draw from the sterile 
hills of Xew Hampshire the means of 

living in a style corresponding with the 
culture he has received in college. The 
truth is, most Xew Hampshire farmers 
must earn their daily bread." 

The drift of "FV argument is ap- 
parent. It is against the practical utility 
of agricultural colleges. If there are 
those who are prepared to prove his posi- 
tion fallacious, it is proper that they 
should speak. 

A recent article from the pen of E. H . 
Cheney, formerly editor of the Lebanon 
Free Press, a brother of ex-Go v. Cheney, 
who has spent much of his time, for sev- 
eral years past, at the South, upon the 
relative condition of the cotton manufac- 
turing industry, here and in that section, 
has attracted much attention, and been 
the subject of no little comment and crit- 
icism. Mr. Cheney maintains, and not 
without some show of reason, that cotton 
manufacturing in Xew England has seen 
its best days, and that the seat of this 
great industry will be — is now being — 
transferred to the South, where there is 
unlimited water power in easy access of 
the cotton producing sections, thus sav- 
ing largely in transportation of the raw 
material, and proportionately lessening 
the cost of production. 

It is claimed, on the other hand, that 
notwithstanding the progress that has 
been made at the South in this direction, 
there is a constant and even greater pro- 
gress here ; that even if some minor man- 
ufacturing establishments in the smaller 
towns have suspended operations, the 
great corporations in the larger towns 
and cities have been constantly increas- 
ing the magnitude of their business, so 
that on the whole the increase here ex- 
ceeds what has been accomplished in the 

We opine that both positions are right 
and both are wrong in a measure. The 
manufacturing interest will grow up at 
the South, but will not go down in Xew 
England. When the barriers of " pro- 
tection " are broken down and free trade 
is established, Xew England skill and in- 
dustry will be enabled to compete suc- 
cessfully in the markets of the world. 




VOL. 1. JANUARY, 1878. 

NO. 8. 


New Hampshire is reputed to be " a 
good State to emigrate from." At all 
events tbere are now, and have been for 
nearly a century past, natives of New 
Hampshire occupying pre-eminent posi- 
tions amoDg the distinguished citizens of 
other States in all sections of the Union, 
embracing governors, congressmsn, sen- 
ators, judges of the supreme court, cabi- 
net ministers, eminent jurists, divines and 
journalists, as well as many of the lead- 
ing minds in the various departments of 
active business. But while we at home 
are proud of the names and the achieve- 
ments of those in other States who have 
gone out from our midst, as well as those 
who have won distinction and honor at 
home, we should not entirely forget the 
fact that New Hampshire, while con- 
tributing so largely to other States, has 
received something in return — that while 
numbers of her sons have performed hon- 
orable service in various fields of action 
abroad, not a few from other States have 
made their home with us, winning hon- 
orable position and contributing to the 
material prosperity and general welfare 
of the State. Many of the prominent 
representative men of the State, known 
to the present generation, in public life — 
at the bar and on the bench, including 
such names as Burke, Bingham, Hib- 
bard, Foster, Benton, Ray, and others, 
were born in our sister State of Vermont, 
while many others, not less eminent and 

successful, came from Massachusetts and 
other States. 

Among the representative men of the 
State, in active business life at the pres- 
ent time, not only upon the ground of 
business success, but from his connec- 
tion with public and political affairs, Al- 
vah W. Sulloway of Franklin may 
properly be regarded as worthy of men- 

Mr. Sulloway is a native of Framing- 
ham, Mass., born Dec. 25, 1838. His 
father, I. W. Sulloway, who is still liv- 
ing, and now resides at Waltham, Mass., 
was an overseer in the Saxonville Woolen 
Mills. He had a family of four chil- 
dren, one son and 'three daughters 
Alvah W\, the son, being the eldest. 
Of the daughters, two are living, one 
still unmarried, and the other the wife 
of Herbert Bailey, a hosiery manufac- 
turer now in business in the town of 
Claremont. When Alvah Vas ten years 
of age his father removed to the town of 
Enfield in this State, where he engaged 
in the manufacture of yarn and hosiery, 
remaining some sixteen years, when he 
sold out to bis son-in-law and retired 
from business. When not attending 
school, in his youth Mr. Sulloway was 
engaged in his father's mill, and thus be- 
came thoroughly familiarized with the 
details and general operation of the man- 
ufacturing business in which he has sub- 
Eequently been so actively and success- 





ademical education, attending school at 
Canaan, and at the academies in Barre 
and Woodstock, Vt. When twenty-one 
years of age Mr. Sulloway went to Frank- 
lin and went into business in the manu- 
facture of hosiery, in partnership with 
Walter Aiken. He continued in busi- 
ness with Mr. Aiken about four years, 
when the partnership was dissolved, and, 
in company with Frank H. Daniell, he 
put in operation another hosiery mill, 
running in company with Mr. Daniell 
until 1.8G9, when he became sole proprie- 
tor, and has since carried on the business 
alone. Possessed of good judgment, 
business tact and energy, and devoting 
his personal attention, in a large degree, 
to the superintendence of the work, with 
the details of which he is familiar from 
early experience, he has been highly fa- 
vored in point of business prosperity, 
and is apparently well on the way to 
competence and wealth, while at the 
same time benifitting the public by fur- 
nishing employment to numbers of peo- 

Mr. Sulloway's mill is situated on the 
lower power of the Winnipiseogee River, 
a short distance above its junction with 
the Pemigewassett, by which it is op- 
erated in common with the lower mills 
of the Winnipiseogee Paper Company, 
well known as one of the largest paper 
manufacturing corporations in Xew Eng- 
land, of which Hon. Warren F. Daniell, 
a brother-in-law of Mr. Sulloway, is 
agent and manager. The mill is of brick, 
three stories and basement, running four 
sets of woolen machinery and fifty knit- 
ting machines, and giving employment 
to about seventy-five hands, beside the 
large numbers of women throughout the 
surrounding country engaged in finishing 
the work which the machines leave in- 
complete. The goods manufactured are 
known as men's Shaker socks, or half- 
hose, and the amount annually produced 
averages one hundred and fifty thousand 
dollars in value, while the monthly pay- 
roll at the mill is about two thousand, 
exclusive of the large amount paid for 
outside work. 



From his youth Mr. Sulloway has taken 
much interest in political affairs. Strong- 
ly attached to the principles of the 
Democratic party, ardent, enthusiastic 
and persistent in his efforts for its suc- 
cess, he has become one of its recognized 
leaders in his section of the State. He 
was elected a representative from Frank- 
lin to the legislature in 1S71. although 
there was at the time a decided party 
majority against him in the town. He 
was re-elected the following year and 
again in 1874 and 1875. In the legisla- 
ture he was a working rather than a talk- 
ing member, serving in 1S71 upon the 
committee on elections; in 1872 upon the 
railroad committee: in 1S74 as chairman 
of the committee on manufactures, for 
which position he was eminently well 
qualified, and in 1875 again upon the elec- 
tions committee. In 1871 Mr. Sulloway 
was the Democratic candidate for Eailroad 
Commissioner upon the ticket with Gov. 
Weston, and, there being no choice by 
the people, was elected to that office by 
the legislature, and ably discharged his 
duties for the full term of thre.e years. 

Mr. Sulloway was one of the delegates 
to the National Democratic Convention 
at St. Louis, in June. 1S76, which nomi- 
nated Samuel J. Tilden for the Presi- 
dency, and was selected by the delega- 
tion as the New Hampshire member of 
the Democratic National Executive Com- 
mittee, which position he now holds. 
Last winter he was nominated as the 
Democratic candidate for Congress in 
.the Second District, against Hon. James 
F. Briggs of Manchester, the Eepubli- 
can nominee, and, although his party 
was in a hopeless minority in the Dis- 
trict, he made a vigorous canvass and 
ran several hundred votes ahead of his 
ticket. He has been for several years an 
active member of the Democratic State 
Committee, and for the last two years 
one of the advisory committe of three 

having charge of the active work of the 
canvass . 

Mr. Sulloway married, in 1S66. Miss 
Susan K. Dauiell, a daughter of the late 
J. T. Daniell of the old and well-known 
paper manufacturing firm of Peabody 
& Daniell, and sister of Hon. Warren F. 
Daniell and Frank H. Daniell, his former 
partner, before mentioned. They have 
two children, a daughter six, and a son 
about two years of age. Last season 
Mr, Sulloway completed an elegant new 
residence, which is delightfully located 
in a bend of the Winnipiseogee River, a 
short distance from his mill. The house 
is of modern design, convenient in all its 
appointments, thoroughly finished and 
richly furnished throughout, and all the 
surroundings are suggestive of taste and 

Mr. Sullow"ay is a man of sauguine 
temperament, of strong physical consti- 
tution, vigorous mental powers, and in- 
domitable energy, and labors persistently 
in any work which he undertakes, wheth- 
er in business or politics. Ardent in his- 
attachments, social and generous, he 
has many warm personal friends, which 
accounts in part, for the large vote he 
always receives in his town and vicinity 
when a candidate for office. In his reli- 
gious sentiments Mr. Sulloway is liberal, 
having been reared in the Universalist 
faith, while his wife is a Unitarian. In 
all matters pertaining to the public wel- 
fare he always manifests a strong inter- 
est, and is among the foremost in sup- 
porting and carrying out all reasonable 
projects of local improvement. In this 
respect the town of Franklin is highly 
favored, numbering among its citizens 
many public-spirited men, to whose ef- 
forts, along with its superior natural ad- 
vantages, it owes the prominent position 
it now occupies among the flourishing 
manufacturing towns of the State. 





In this centennial period it becomes our 
duty to put in our claim in behalf of the 
brave men of New Hampshire who par- 
ticipated in the two memorable struggles 
under General Gates of September 19th 
and October 7th, preliminary to the im- 
portant surrender of General Burgoyne 
and his army on the 17th of the same Oc- 
tober,, 1777. The truth of history will 
allow us to claim for our men, who then 
fought, a more prominent place than 
has generally been assigned to them. A 
brief statement of the recorded facts as 
they occurred on those eventful clays, we 
think, will justify our position, without 
reflecting any injustice upon those dis- 
tinguished men from other States who 
so bravely and successfully co-operated 
with us. As safe authority, we rely 
much upon the historical record of Gen- 
eral James Wilkinson, as published in 
the second volume of his u Memoirs of 
his own Times." He acted under Gen- 
eral Gates as Deputy Adjutant General 
of the Northern Army, and was an eye 
witness to many of the events described 
by him, had good means of knowing the 
truth, communicated the orders of the 
Commanding General, and has lelt for 
our guidance a faithful official record of 
the troops ordered into each battle, and 
especially a full return under his hand of 
the killed, wounded aud missing of each 
Corps engaged in the battle of Septem- 
ber 19th. From the evidence furnished 
from such sources, confirmed by other 
original documents, we are enabled to 
gather a correct comparative estimate of 
the achievements and sacrifices of the 
New Hampshire men who participated 
in this engagement. 

This battle of September was fought 
almost entirely by the left wing of the 
American army. Wilkinson says that 
only about 3000 of our troops were en- 
gaged, and they were opposed by 3500 

of the best men of Burgoyne's army. 
The battle was obstinately fought, and 
without immediate decisive advantages 
or results to either side. The ground on 
which they contended was broken, or un- 
even, and much of it covered with trees. 
The Americans used no cannon. The 
British employed a battery of about six 
pieces, which were taken and retakeu 
several times, but were finally left in the 
possession of the enemy. Each party 
took and lost some prisoners. The Brit- 
ish loss was reported to exceed 600, while 
the American loss in killed, wounded and 
missing, as returned by Wilkinson, 
amounted to 321. Of this number, SO 
w r ere killed, 21S wounded, and 23 miss- 
ing. Of the Americans engaged, we first 
mention Col. Morgan's Regiment of Rifle- 
men, not exceeding in number 400 men; 
second, Maj. Dearborn's Battalion of In- 
fantry, partly made up from Whitcomb's 
Rangers, Col. Long's Regiment and some 
new volunteers, supposed to not exceed 
300; third, Gen. Poor's Brigade of Infan- 
try, which was reported on the 4th of 
October subsequent to the battle then to 
embrace 1466 men, and probably must 
have numbered at least 1600 in its ranks 
at the tiuje of the battle. It lost 217 men 
in killed, wounded, etc., on that day. 
The balance of the troops, who took a 
part in the contest, was made up from 
Gen. Larnard'sBrigade of Massachusetts 
troops and a detachment commanded by 
Col. Marshall of Patterson's Brigade. 
The analysis of Gen. Poor's Brigade 
would show about the following result: 
First, the three New Hampshire Conti- 
nental Regiments. These Regiments had 
been enlisted for three years, or during 
the war, and organized under their sev- 
eral commanders early in the year 1777. 
Most of them had seen service in some 
previous campaign. The first Regiment 
was commanded at this time by Col. Cil- 



ley of Nottingham ; the second by Col. 
Geo. Reid of Londonderry; the third by 
Col. Alexander Seam m ell of Durham. 
The numberin all these Regiments would 
not exceed 1000. Their whole number 
on the 2Sth of the preceding June was 
only 1119, and the unfortunate battle had 
since occurred at Hubbarton, in which 
Hale's Regiment (now Reid's) had suf- 
fered a severe loss of nearly 75 men 
(mostly prisoners). The balance of 
Gen. Poor's Brigade was made up from 
Militia from Connecticut, one Regiment 
of which was commanded by Col. Cook, 
also by two small detachments of New 
York Militia. Wilkinson says, u The 
stress of the action on our part was borne 
by Morgan's Regiment and Poor's Bri- 
gade." The battle commenced about 
three o'clock, P. M., and continued until 
dark. Each party then retired to their 
respective camps. Wilkinson says also 
thatLarnard's Brigade went into the bat- 
tle late in the day. The impetuous Gen. 
Arnold complained because Gen. Gates 
declined to order more troops into action. 
Hence severe language passed between 
them, and harsh feeling was exhibited by 
both Generals. 

In order to ascertain with some degree 
of accuracy those who actually fought 
the battle of September 19th. we refer to 
Wilkinson's Eeturn of the whole loss in 
killed, wounded and missing, as assigned 
by him to each, and all the troops en- 
gaged on that day, according to his sum- 
mary of the loss, and we believe he has 
reported accurately, the New Hampshire 
troops suffered as much, or more, in offi- 
cers and men than ali the others com- 
bined. The figures will show the com- 
parative sacrifice, and to whom the hon- 
or and glory of this contest justly belong. 

Morgan's Reg't lost in killed and wounded, 16 

The New York Militia, 33 

The Connecticut Militia, 66 

General Larnard'a Brigade, 35 

Colonel Marshall's liegiment, 10 

Mai. Dearborn's Battalion of Infantry, 
Col. Ciller's Continental Beg*t, First N. H., 
Col. Reid's Second N*. II. Reg't, 
Col. ScammeU'6 Third X. U. Ileg't, 



It will thus be seen that New Hamp- 
shire lost, in officers aud privates, 1C1 
out of 321 men, or 118 from Poor's Bri- 

gade, which lost, as before stated, 217— 
leaving 99 for the other corps be- 
longing to this Brigade. Honorable 
mention should be made of Col. Cook's 
Regiment of Connecticut Militia, which 
encountered the loss of 53 ; Col. Lati- 
mer's Conunecticut loss, 13 — 66 total 

In this struggle New Hampshire lost 
many valuable officers. In Scammell's 
Regiment. Lieutenant-Colonel Andrew 
Coburn of Marlborough was killed; also 
Lieutenant Joseph M. Thomas and En- 
sign Joseph Fay of Walpole were mor- 
tally wounded. In Reid's Regiment, 
Lieutenant-Colonel Winborn Adams of 
Durham was killed. Captain Frederick 
M. Bell of Dover was also mortally 
wounded, and died in hospital soon after 
the battle. Lieutenant Noah Robinson 
of Exeter and Ensign Bell of New Castle 
were both wounded, but survived. In 
•Col. Cilley's Regiment, Captain William 
Scott of Peterborough, Lieutenant James 
Gould of Groton, Lieutenant Jonathan 
Emerson of Dunstable and Lieutenant 
Barzillai Howe of Hillsborough were all 
wounded, and Captain Jason Waittv of 
Alstead and Lieutenant John Moore of 
Pembroke were made prisoners. In 
Maj. Dearborn's Battalion, Lieutenant 
William Read and Ensign Foster were 
killed, and Captain Ball was wounded. 

In the next battle, of October 7th, we 
find the same brave men, who had so 
well and so obstinately fought the first, 
again commanded to take the field. Gen. 
Gates' order to Wilkinson was: "Tell 
Morgan to begin the game." He did be- 
gin it, attacking the enemy on the right 
flank. The New Hampshire troops re- 
ceive and obey the next order, and are 
soon found both in front and on the left 
flank of the enemy. Wilkinson says: 
;t After I had delivered the order to Gen. 
Poor, directing him to the point of at- 
tack, I was commanded to bring up Ten 
Broeck's Brigade of New York troops, 
3000 strong. I performed this service, 
and regained the field of battle at the 
moment the enemy had turned their 
back, only fifty-two minutes after the 
first shot was fired. I found the coura- 
geous Col. Cilley astraddle of a brass 12- 
pounder, and exulting in the capture," 



The whole of the British line was broken. 
It was commanded by Gen. Burgoyne 
in person. It gave way, and made a dis- 
orderly retreat to their camp, leaving 
two brass 12-pounders and six brass 
C-ponnders on the field, with the loss of 
more than 400 officers and privates killed, 
wounded and prisoners. Gen. Frazar 
was killed, while Maj. Ackland, Wil- 
liams, Clarke and many other officers 
were wouuded and prisoners. The bat- 
tle thus far had been between the two 
camps, which were located about two 
miles apart and at right angles with the 
Hudson River. After the retreat of the 
British to their entrenchments, then 
came the furious attack upon their de- 
fences. In this general charge upon the 
British works Generals Larnard, Patter- 
son. Nixon, Ten Broeck, Colonels Brooks 
and Marshall, urged on by Arnold, all 
participated. Many of the Militia from 
2s ew England and New York also lent 
essential aid. Col. Breyman, at the head 
of his troops, was killed, and a decisive 
victory was gained. Subsequently, Bur- 
goyne undertook to extricate himself 
from his perilous position, but was baffled 
in his efforts, and finally surrendered his 
army on the 17th of October. The Amer- 
ican Army, or the Returning Officers 
thereof, failed to furnish a correct state- 
ment of the loss in killed and wounded 
in this last battle. The New Hampshire 
troops suffered severely. Many of the 
new levies, or militia, belonging to Gen. 
Whipple's Brigade, shared in the dan- 
gers of the conflict in common with the 
regular soldiers. One of their most wor- 
thy officers, Lieutenant-Colonel Samuel 
Connor of Pembroke, was killed. Also 
Captain John McClary and Ensign Tuck 
•were mortally wounded, and Captain Na- 
than Sanborn of Deerfield was severely 
wounded. In Poor's Brigade, Scam- 
mell's Regiment, Scammell himself was 
wounded. Also Lieutenant Thomas 
Simpson of Orford, Lieutenant Joseph 
Hantoon of Kingston, Lieutenant Joseph 
Hilton of Deerlield and Ensign Nathan- 
iel Leavitt of Hampton were wounded; 
while Lieutenant Amos Webster of Capt. 
Livermore's Company, and a resident in 
Plymouth, and Ensign Lieman of Hollis 
weie killed. In Col. Raid's Regiment, 

Lieutenant James Crombie of Rindge and 
Ensign William Taggart of Hillsbor- 
ough were wounded. 

Our inspection of the Rolls of the New 
Hampshire Continental Regiments en- 
gaged in both battles enables us to con- 
firm Wilkinson's list of the killed and 
wounded and missing of the battle of 
September 19th, and to render the other 
fact quite certain, that our loss in the 
battle of Oct. 7th was quite equal to that 
of September 19th. We give a compara- 
tive statement of the killed in both bat- 
tles, embracing the names of subalterns 
and privates, with their places of resi- 
dence, so far as we could ascertain them, 
commencing with Col. Cilley's Regi- 
ment, September 19th, 12 killed: 

Serg't Benjamin Dike, Amherst. 

• 4 Rawlings Coburn, New Ips- 
Private Orson Locke, Kensington. 

44 Benjamin Neally, Meredith. 

44 John Watts, Londonderry, — 
hired by Sutton. 

44 Luther Wheatley. Lebanon, — 
died of wounds Sept., 1777. 

" John Bartlett, Kingston. 

l * Benjamin Parker, Swanzev. 

44 Win. Goffe. Bedford. 

44 Nathaniel Bates, Dublin. 

44 William Dodge. — died of his 
wounds Sept. 30. 1777. 

41 Wm. Vinton, — died of wounds 
Sept. 27. 

List of killed in the same Regiment, 
October 7th, 1777; 16 killed; 

Private Ebenezer Sinkler, Weare. 
4 * John Berry, Chester. 
44 James Russ, " 
44 Amos Kenney. Hudson. 
44 Joel Judkins, Kingston. 
44 Charles Lynes, Claremont. 
44 Jeremiah Smart, Dunbarton. 
44 Jonathan Smith, 4i died 

of his wounds Oct. 26. 
44 Timo. Hutchinson. Milford. 
44 Moses Brown, Rochester. 
44 John Dore, 
44 Peter Brewer (Negro), New 

44 Eph. Severance, New Ipswich. 
44 John Elliott. 
44 Ebenezer Collins, Hopkinton, — 

died of wounds Oct. 26. 
• 4 Joseph Eastman, do.. Oct. 30. 

We give next the killed, subalterns and 

privates, in Col. Geo. Reid's Regiment. 

Sept. 19th: 

Serg't John Demeritt, Madbury. 
44 Andrew Bearce, Portsmouth, 



Private Barnabas McBride, " 
44 William Gray, Barrington. 
" Bradstreet Taylor, Kensington. 
44 Silas Stone, Dublin. 
u Joseph Hovey, Dunstable. 
'* Joshua Holmes, Rochester. 
44 John Tucker, Epping. 
4 * Wm. Abbott, Conway. 
u Christopher Marsh, "Plaistow. 
14 Timo. Page, Hatnpstead, — 

wounded, dying Sept. 26. 
" Jona. Marston, North Hamp- 
ton, wounded, dying Sept. 30. 
13 killed Sept. 19th. 
October 7th, killed : 
Private Daniel Grant, Exeter. 

w Edmund Smith, Kensington. 
" Ebinezer Gove. Seabrook. 
" Wm. Moreland. Salem. 
Corp. Moses Rollins, wounded, died 

Oct. 13, 1777. 
Private Stephen Batchelder, Newmar- 
ket, wounded, died Nov. 2, 
" Jacob Flanders, South Hamp- 
" Samuel Magoon, Brentwood. 
44 Richard Goss, Rye. 
44 Paul Pearl, Rochester. 
44 Nath. Briggs, Keene, died of 
his wounds Oct. 18. 
11 killed Oct. 7th ; 24 in all. 
The subalterns and privates of Col. A. 
ScammelFs Regiment, killed Sept. 19, 
1777, atBemis' Heights, or Saratoga: 
Serg't Iddo Church, Gilsum. 
Private Jonathan Fuller, Claremont. 
11 Daniel Snow. Keene. 
11 Jonah Stone. Temple. 
" Benjamin Warren, Winchester. 
44 Azariah Comstock, Richmond. 
44 John Magoon, Sanbornton. 
* 4 Stephen Firield, Brentwood. 
44 Abraham Potter, Deertield. 
44 John Crawford, Chester. 
44 Abram Cummings, Greenland. 
* 4 James Flagg. Moultonborough, 
wounded, died Sept. 24. 1777. 
44 Edward Peavey. New Durham, 
wounded, died Sept. 23. 1777. 
44 James Hastings, Canterbury, 
wounded, died Sept. 28, 1777. 
October 7, 1777: 

Serg't Samuel Baker. Newmarket. 
Private Seth Shack ford, Newington. 
44 Frederick Freeman, Marlbor- 
44 Obadiah Kimball, Concord. 
44 Abial Stevens, » 4 wound- 

ed, died Oct. 20. 
44 John Mason. Loudon, mortally 

wounded, died Oct. 25. 
44 John MeCarty. Hawke. 
» 4 Collins Eaton. Goffstown. 
u John Rollins, Chichester. 
44 Dudley Marsh. Peiham, mor- 
ally wounded— died Nov. 1, 1777, 

Private John Crossfield, Keene. died cf 
his wounds Oct. 12, 1777. 

Total killed Oct. 7.— 11. 

Recapitulation of number killed: 

Col. Cilley's Reg't, killed Sep. 19, 12 
4 ' Reid's " '* 13 

44 Scammell's 4i » 14 


Battle Oct. 7, alley's Reg't, 
*• k4 Reid's 4 * 

♦ 4 44 Scammell's 44 



In both battles — officers killed, 8; su- 
balterns and privates, 77 ; rank and file. 85. 

We have on hand a list of over 90 men 
who were wounded or died in the North- 
ern Army of 1777, belonging to the afore- 
said Regiments, without including their 
loss at Hubbarton, July 7. The enu- 
meration of the names of these men 
would only fatigue your readers. 

As the New Hampshire Troops, includ- 
ing Poor's Brigade, Dearborn's Battal- 
ion and Gen. Whipple's Brigade of Mili- 
tia, were all actively engaged in the bat- 
tle of Oct. 7, we may infer from the test 
of the killed here furnished that their loss 
on that day equalled or exceeded that of 
Sept. 19th. Scammeirs Regiment had 
previously experienced the loss of Capt. 
Richard Weare.who was mortally wound- 
ed at Fort Ann, on the 4th of August, 
1777, and had died at Albany soon after. 
He was a valuable officer, and the favor- 
ite son of Chief Justice Weare. The same 
Regiment suffered the loss of Capt. Hez- 
ekiah Beal of Portsmouth, on the 6th of 
November, 1777, having been wounded 
in one of the previous battles with the 

We would not omit to state the fact 
that two full companies of New Hamp- 
shire men, commanded by New Hamp- 
shire officers, were enrolled in Col. Mi- 
chael Jackson's Massachusetts Regiment 
and Gen. Larnard's Brigade. This Reg- 
iment participated in both of the battles 
that led to Burgoyue's surrender. The 
amount of the loss of these Companies 
we havenotascertained. nor have we had 
access to the rolls of Whipple's Brigade 
or Dearborn's Battalion to ascertain the 
extent of their loss. 

In conclusion, history tells us that the 
campaign of the Northern Army, in the 



fully engaged. He secured a good ac- 
beginning of 1777, commenced in defeat 
and gloom to our good cause, and termi- 
nated in success and glory. From the 
facts and figures before stated the can- 
did reader can easily determine or appor- 
tion the just amount of praise and grati- 
tude due to the Xew Hampshire troops 
for their achievments in that eventful 
year. We have stated our claim with no 
intent to do injustice, or to disparage the 
distinguished services rendered by the 
men from the other Xew England States, 
as well as Xew York and Virginia, in 
contributing their aid and well-concerted 
measures, which resulted in the final 
surrender of Eurgoyne and his army. 

Gen. Jacob Bailey of Vermont, who 
participated in that campaign as one of 
the commanders of the forces there em- 
ployed, on the 20th of Xovember, 1777 T 
wrote to Hon. Meshech Weare, in his 
plain, characteristic style, viz. : 

" Dear Sir : — I congratulate you on the 
happy reduction of Gen. Burgoyne's 
army by Gen Gates, in which Xew 
Hampshire State, first and last, was very 

instrumental. The turning out of your 
volunteers was extraordinarily advanta- 
geous in that affair," etc. 

Such was the judgment of an honest 
and impartial eye-wkuess. 

There is no doubt that the active, bold 
and fearless conduct of Arnold in both 
battles infused life and energy into the 
American troops. He had the credit, as 
commander, in the first battle. It is said 
that Captain Samuel Ball of the Xew 
Hampshire Volunteers was wounded on 
the head by a blow from Arnold's sword. 
That in return Ball raised his gun and 
would have shot Arnold had not his 
Lieutenant interfered and seized Ball's 
arm. The cause of the difficulty was 
not stated. Arnold made a subsequent 
apology to Ball. The killing of Arnold 
may have been pronounced wrong, or 
rash in the case of Ball, if his purpose 
had been carried out, but it might have 
saved to the name of Arnold the terrific 
word traitor I Capt. Ball lived to a good 
old age, and died in Acworth in this 




There is an undefinable sadness in the 
dying out of Xature's beauties: the with- 
ered and frost-killed verdure lying deso- 
late and neglected at our feet; the sad, 
dreary moaning of the leafless trees, the 
chill wind, and, above all, the knowledge 
that the year is soon to draw to a close. 
To a devoted lover of Xature these 
thoughts come with a force which over- 
shadows the heart, causing painful reflec- 
tions. It is at such times one's mind nat- 
urally turns to holier things, and we feel 
more thankful for this blessed truth: 

That when this life 13 er.ded 
We may gather at the Throne, 

And not, like leaves and flowers, 
Be left to die alone; 

Qh, *ti« a. thought raoat priceless, 

A jewel bright and fair, 
To know a home in Heaven 
Awaits our entrance there. 

This thought brings a sweet, restful 
feeling into our otherwise sad hearts, 
and we go on our way with a deeper re- 
alization of our manifold blessings, and 
our Father's watchful kindness o'er us 

In a valley, nestled cosily between 
some of Xew Hampshire's many hills, is 
the village of S , small and unpre- 
tending, with only one church, two 
stores, a blacksmith shop and a school 
house, beside the old-fashioned dwelling- 
houses standing here and there along the 
straggling street. It is a chilly day in 
Oetober. Rude gusts of wind cause the 
dead leaves to fall in showers from the 



few maples which in summer form the 
only beauty the villaore'.boasts. A dreary, 
desolate picture, perhaps, but neverthe- 
less one which is often seen. Directly 
opposite the church, and near the centre 
of the village, stands a small red cottage, 
enclosed by an unpainted picket fence. 
Beside the walk leading from the gate- 
way lay the dead and dying flowers, 
which have evidently been tended by 
some careful hand, but which have been 
rudely touched by the early frost. Let 
us enter the house. 

The sitting-room is a small, square 
room, the floor covered with a home- 
made carpet, the furniture consisting of 
a few straight-backed chairs and a large, 
old-fashioned rocker, a small looking- 
glass between the two windows, which 
are shaded with white curtains, and un- 
derneath it a small work-table covered 
with needle-work. In one corner a small 
table stands, whereon lies a large Bible. 
A fire burns in a£srnall stove, and near 
by, upon a stool, is seated a young girl, 
her elbows resting upon her lap. her face 
resting upon her hands. Her hair is 
dusky brown, with a tinge of gold, and 
hangs in wavy, luxuriant masses over 
her shoulders. Her dress is composed 
of a dark-brown fabric, made very plain- 
ly, but fitting her slender figure perfect- 
ly. Upon the forefinger of her right 
hand gleams a plain gold ring. At length 
she raises her bead, revealing a lovely 
face, dark-brown eyes with a " far away " 
look in their depths, rosebud lips, and 
cheeks red as roses. Fannie Gordon is 
the only child of Deacon Jonas Gordon 
and wife, and the light of the Deacon's 
home, as well as 

" The pride of all the village, 

And the fairest in the dell." 

Fun-loving and full of gentle impulses, a 
thoroughly ,k good girl," it was no won- 
der she was beloved by all who knew 
her. Indeed, it seemed almost like a 
flower springing up amid weeds and 
thistles, so different seemed her sweet 
face from those surrounding her. 

On the day in question, however, the 
usually bright face is somewhat clouded, 
and there is a subdued look in the brown 
eyes, showing at once that some weighty 
matter is being revolved in her mind. 

Bising at length, she approaches the 
window and looks out upon the cheerless 
street, and its cheerlessness seems to 
strike her more forcibly than ever before. 
With a sigh she turns aside and takes up 
her work, her fingers plying her needle 
rapidly, her thoughts very busy, if one 
can judge by the sigh which ever and 
anon escapes her lips. Soon the door 
opens and her father enters the room. A 
tall, spare man, with iron-gray hair aud 
beard, and a rather stern aud forbidding 
look about the closely compressed lips, 
is Deacon Gordon. Eigid in his views, 
stern and unyielding, yet a thoroughly 
good man and one who filled his office in 
church as he did his place in the home 
circle, with credit to himself aud satis- 
faction to those surrounding him. Per- 
haps the pretty Fannie would hardly 
have coincided with the latter remark, 
however, just at present, as the sequel 
will show r . 

"A cold, rough day for the season, 
Fannie," said her father, as he replen- 
ished the fire ar.d seated himself in the 
rocking-chair, newspaper in hand. 

w * Yes, sir," replied Fannie, without 
looking up. Something in the tone of 
her voice caused her father to readjust 
his spectacles and give her a scrutinizing 
look, while a decided frown became visi- 
ble upon his face. He said nothing, how- 
ever, but instead of opening his paper, 
as had been his intention, he fixed his 
gaze upon the church spire opposite and 
seemed lost in thought. That his 
thoughts were disagreeable ones hi3 
stern face plainly showed. At length 
the sound of carriage wheels coming 
down the street arrested his attention, 
and soon the carriage appeared in sight, 
its occupant, a dark, handsome young 
man, looking eagerly towards the house. 
As his eyes caught sight of Fannie he 
bowed politely and smilingly as he 
touched his horse with his whip and hur- 
ried on his way. Over the sweet face of 
the girl there came a flush, while the 
dusky brown eyes danced and sparkled a 
joy that she vainly endeavored to con- 
ceal as she bent more closely over her 

" Fannie!" Deacon Gordon's voice 
was very stern as he pronounced hia 



daughter's name. 

'.* Yes, papa," she replied, raising her 
pretty face, the color coming and going 
in waves of crimson and white. 

"I believe I told you not to encourage 
the attentions of Ralph Carey. Do you 
intend to obey me?" 

The bright lips quivered slightly as 
she auswered sadly : u Papa, I have given 
Ralph no encouragemeut whatever since 
your words of a fortnight since. Then 
you would not or could not give me a 
reason for your dislike to him. Please 
tell me why you are so opposed to him." 

"He is a poor, idle, worldly-minded 
young man, with brains enough, perhaps, 
but inclined to use them the wrong way. 
Is not that enough?" queried the Dea- 
con sternly. 

u Papa, you mistake him, indeed you 
do. That he is poor I grant, but that he 
is idle I cannot admit. He is studying 
law with Esquire Jones of R ," re- 
plied Fannie with some spirit. 

" Studying law, is he? He has chosen 
his right vocation in life, then, I'm think- 
ing. I suppose you know what I mean 
without my saying more, as you have 
heard my opinion of lawyers many times 
before this. I do not wish to be severe 
with you, my child " — for the good Dea- 
con had caught sight of the tears trick- 
ling down her cheeks and dropping one 
by one upon the work lying in her lap — 
" but I cannot consent to your having 
anything more to do with Ralph Carey." 

Hastily brushing away her tears, Fan- 
nie arose from her seat and left the 
room, meeting her mother, who was just 
coming in from the kitcheu. Mrs. Gor- 
don gave her daughter a pitying look as 
she closed the door behind her retreating 
form, and in a low voice addressed her 
husband, saying: 

u Jonas, do let Fannie alone; the poor 
girl feels down-hearted enough without 
a sermon from you every other day, I 
am sure." 

Deacon Gordon raised his eyes to his 
wife's face in utter astonishment, for 
never during the two and twenty years 
of their married life had she ventured to 
raise her voice in opposition to his be- 
fore. Perhaps he allowed his feelings to 
be ruffled rather more than was becom- 

ing in a Deacon, as he replied : 

' ; Mrs. Gordon, I intend to be obeyed 
in this matter. Fannie is young, and 
this is but a passing fancy at most. 1 do 
not expect you to take up for her, and 
what is more I will not put up with it," 
saying which the Deacon arose, put on 
his hat and left the house. 

u Oh, dear me ! " sighed Mrs. Gordon, 

" I wish Fannie had never gone to M 

Academy. I never did see such an ado 
over anything as the Deacon is making 
over this, i" don't know any harm of the 
young man, though I suppose he is not a 
church member, but no more is Fannie, 
so what is the use of making so much 
trouble? Fannie is as sober as she can 
be all the time. Well ! well ! " and the 
good lady smiled softly to herself as she 
picked up her daughter's neglected work 
and busied herself in folding it up nicely 
and laying it safely away. 

For two years past Fannie Gordon had 

attended the academy at M , a large 

village, distant some twenty miles from 
her home, and while there had become 
acquainted with Ralph Carey, a law stu- 
dent, and a noble young man. Of course 
it was the same old story over again, 
with its bright hopes and happy hours, 
until Fannie's school days ended and she 
was compelled to return to the old home- 
stead, so plain in itself and unpleasant in 
its surroundings. Her father was not a 
wealthy man. though at the same time 
he was far from being a poor one. He 
calculated upon having laid aside enough 
to support himself and family when old 
age overtook him and he should be una- 
ble to work. He had worked in the little 
blacksmith shop near by his home for 
many years, but he did not own it. 

Fannie's innate love of the beautiful 
had matured during her school days, and 
consequently upon her return home ev- 
erything seemed plainer and more dreary 
than ever before. The Deacon was very 
fond, and— if the truth must be told—very 
proud of his pretty daughter; but he 
would not listen to a word about making 
home brighter for her comfort. " Her 
presence brightened everything about 
the house," he told her, when she 
broached the subject. Not that he was 
penurious, but he thought any unneces- 



sary expenditure of money foolish if not 
sinful, and consequently refused to com- 
ply with Fannie's wishes. All this she 
endured uncomplainingly, but when 
Ralph Carey was forbidden the house, 
the bright eyes grew mournful and the 
gentle heart heavy. 

From the day our story opens, for sev- 
eral weeks no mention was made of a 
subject so painful to Fannie and her 
father, but the latter missed the happy, 
laughing face of his daughter — a quiet, 
sad-faced girl had taken her place, and 
the good man felt very uneasy whenever 
he looked at her, and he felt at times a 
half wish that he had not been quite so 
decisive in his action. 

In the meantime Ealph and Fannie had 
met but once since the day the Deacon 
had politely told the young man that his 
visits could be dispensed with. Sadly 
but decidedly she had told him of her de- 
termination never to marry without her 
father's consent. 

" He is a good man, Kalph, and he 
thinks he is doing right," she had said, 
by way of vindicating him. 

" I have not given you up yet, Fannie, 
by any means. My studies terminate the 
first ot December, and then Haunch out 
upon the sea of life for myself. I must 
either " sink or swim, "and I think it will 
prove to be the latter. I shall always 
love you. Fannie, and you have promised 
to wait for and be true to me. I will not 
seek to meet you in secret, for I do not 
consider it strictly honorable to do so. 
I do not despair of winning you even 
yet. One kiss, dear, and good-bye." 

His encouraging words tilled her little 
trusting heart with a vague hope, and 
she grew more cheerful. 

About this time one of the merchants 
of the little village, an old friend of the 
Deacon's, standing in need of pecuniary 
assistance, applied to the good man for 
aid. Pitying his friend he unhesitating- 
ly advanced him the needed money, tak- 
ing his note as security. It made quite 
an inroad upon his property, but he felt 
confident of his friends ability to repay 
all he had borrowed in rime, and really 
delighted in lightening his burden, but 
he placed far more confidence in the 
merchant, Samuel Black, than he should 
have done. 


Ten months have passed and gone 
since we took a glimpse within Deacon 
Gordon's humble home, and August, 
with its sultry heat, finds but little 
change therein, if I may except the fact 
that the Deacon himself had grown older 
and grayer, with many an added wrinkle 
ill his face and a decided stoop in his once 
erect form. Fannie, with her sad, 
thoughtful face and dusky brown eyes, 
has changed but little since we last saw 
her. She but seldom met Kalph; never 
to exchange more than the common civ- 
ilities of life. His success as a lawyer 
was established, and she heard his praises 
on every hand. 

Deacon Gordon had been very unfor- 
tunate during the past few months, los- 
ing first a valuable cow, and afterwards 
his horse. He was also troubled in re- 
gard to money matters. His whilom 
friend, Samuel Black, had not made him 
the payments agreed upon, and his other 
losses made the use of this money almost 
a necessity. He bitterly regretted his 
want of forethought in not taking a 
mortgage of goods to secure the note, 
for there was a premonition of trouble 
which would make itself felt, causing 
him, as well as his wife and daughter, 
many anxious hours. We shall soon see 
how their forebodings were realized. 

It was in the evening of the 17th of 
August that Fannie went to spend the 
night with a young lady friend who re- 
sided at the upper end of the village. 
Mrs. Gordon was also away, watching at 
the bedside of a sick neighbor, and thus 
the Deacon was left alone. For several 
nights he had slept but little— the con- 
stant worry of his mind was beginning 
to tell upon him — but upon this evening 
he sank into a deep slumber, which lasted 
until past midnight. He was awakened 
by a cry of fire upon the street and the 
ringing of the church bell. He sprang 
from his bed and saw to his horror that 
his own house was on fire and that the 
flames had already burst into the room 
he occupied, which was upon the ground 
floor and adjoined the sitting-room. To 
draw on his clothes and spring from his 
window was the work of a moment, and 
in his excitement he never thought of 



the box standing in the little closet open- 
ing from his room, and which contained 
all his valuable papers, including the 
note given him by Samuel Black, besides 
all the money he possessed. When he 
did think of it he gave one cry, 44 My pa- 
pers — they are lost! " and started to re- 
enter the doomed house, but strong 
hands held him back. It would have 
been the height of madness to have en- 
tered the building then, which soon, 
with a crash, fell in, burning with it the 
coveted box. The buildings, not being 
insured, were of course a total loss. The 
fire caught in the barn, but whether the 
accidental work of a tramp, or purposely 
done by some one else, was never ascer- 
tained, although efforts were made to 
discover its origin. 

Like one in a dream, Deacon Gordon 
suffered himself to be led away from the 
Bmoking ruins by his weeping wife and 
daughter. A kind neighbor welcomed 
the homeless family. Mrs. Gordon was 
coaipletely prostrated by the shock, 
while Fannie thought with regret how 
she had disliked the old house. At least 
it had been a shelter and home for them, 
and now they were homeless and penni- 

Upon the afternoon following the fire 
the Deacon went over to Samuel Black's 
store. There were several of the villa- 
gers there, lounging about the store and 
talking of the fire. Various were the 
surmises as to how it had caught. Wheu 
the Deacon entered the conversation was 
stopped, however. Mr. Black sat behind 
the counter, hi - feet perched upon a stool, 
reading a newspaper; his face flushed as 
the Deacon approached him. 

" Mr. Black, I have called to see if you 
would not let me have a little money. I 
am homeless, as you are aware, and, with 
the exception of the money loaned you, 
penniless. I must have the whole amount 
as soon as possible, but will give you a 
few days in which to obtain it, if you do 
not happen to be prepared." 

Deacon Gordon spoke quietly and 
pleasantly, but a elo^e observer could 
have seen a nervous tremor in the hands 
resting upon the counter. Mr. Black 
arose slowly to his feet, a strange ex- 
pression crogsiug his face. 

" Deacon Gordon, I do not understand 
you. I thought I had paid you your 

14 Paid me my due ! In Heaven's name 
and for the sake of my wife and daugh- 
ter, do not try to cheat me out of my 
hard-earned money, Samuel Black!" 
cried the Deacon, his pale face growing 

44 Deacon Gordon, I can assign only 
one reason for your strange behavior, 
w r hich is this— your loss last night has 
turned your brain." Mr. Black's voice 
was pitying and low as he said this. 

44 I am not crazy, and you know it," re- 
turned the Deacon sternly. 

"Indeed! then if 1 do owe you, you 
will please show these gentlemen the 
note which I gave you at the time I bor- 
rowed the money," returned the mer- 
chant sneeringly. 

With a groan that came from the 
depths of his heart. Deacon Gordon 
turned around and gazed upon the men 
sitting there, his eyes full of the keenest 
anguish. He remembered now of hav- 
ing told two different men that Black 
w r as to pay him the Saturday before. 
He had hoped for and expected the mon- 
ey, as Black had promised faithfully to 
pay it. but, as the reader already knows, 
he had failed to keep his promise, and 
the Deacon had nothing to prove that he 
had not done as he agreed. 

He said no more, but turning left the 
store, his trembling limbs hardly able to 
support him. Iudeed, he seemed a com- 
plete wreck, and his best friends, passing 
him in the street, would have failed to 
recognize in the bent and tottering fig- 
ure the once erect form of Deacon Gor- 
don. There had been a spectator to this 
little scene that neither the Deacon nor 
Mr. Black had observed. Ralph Carey 
had entered the store soon after the Dea- 
con, and seeing who stood at the coun- 
ter, had stepped one side and stood 
screened from view by a pile of boxes, 
his object being a desire not to be seen 
by the Deacon. As the door closed be- 
hind his retreating form, Ralph ap- 
proached the merchant, and looking him 
sternly in the face, said : 

; * When did you pay Deacon Gordon 
the money?" 



" Last Saturday," said the man, turn- 
ing first red and then pale. 

"Can you prove that you did?" he 
next demanded, without removing his 
searching gaze from the man's face. 

" I— I— think I can, sir? But what 
business is this to you, if I may ask?" 
said Black, getting angry. 

l * It may, perhaps, become my busi- 
ness to see that that poor old man re- 
ceives his honest dues. Good day," and 
Kalph left the store without saying any- 
thing further, but he inwardly resolved 
upon seeing Fannie at once, to learn more 
of this unfortuuate affair. 

For the next few days nothing was 
talked of but the fire and the Deacon's 
encounter — if such I may call it — with 
Mr. Black. Every one believed the Dea- 
con's word, but in order to get the mon- 
ey it must be proved, and there seemed 
no way of doing that. At first he refused 
to go to law, but at length his friends 
overcame his scruples, and soon the villa- 
gers were electrified by the announce- 
ment that there was a law-suit impend- 
ing between Deacon Gordon and Samuel 
Black, and what made the news more 
startling was the fact that Ralph Carey 
was engaged to act as the Deacon's law- 
yer. Even Fannie, through whose in- 
strumentality it had come about, could 
hardly realize the wonderful fact. 
chap, ni! 

The court room was filled to repletion. 
Samuel Black, confident that he should 
win, wore a smile of self-satisfaction and 
was very pompous. Deacon Gordon, on 
the contrary, was very much cast down, 
for he had hardly a hope of success. 
Fannie was there, her little heart beat- 
ing wildly, for she realized how much 
depended upon the day's issue. If Ralph 
won the case, he won comfort for her 
parents' declining years, and he also 
won her. She knew that her father 
would never refuse her to Ralph again, 
if by his means the property was restored 
to them. 

Witness after witness was examined, 
and everything seemed to be going in 
favor of the merchant, and Fancie's heart 
sank like lead in her bosom. At length 
a young man, rough and uncouth, but 
good natured and intelligent, named 

James Waite, was called, and after being 
duly sworn testified to a conversation he 
had accidentally overheard between Sam- 
uel Black and his wife upou the night of 
the fire, which was substantially as fol- 
lows : He was returning from the ruins, 
and had stopped, when near Samuel 
Black's house, to light his pipe. He was 
upon the point of striking a match, when 
he heard voices approaching him, and 
naturally enough paused, thinking he 
would let the owners pass before doing 
so. They proved to be Mr. Black and 
his wife. The moon coming out from be- 
hind a cloud revealed their faces, even if 
he had not known their voices. Mr. 
Black was saying in a low voice, but dis- 
tinctly heard by the witness : " He has 
lost all his papers, and with them that 
note. I shall not pay him, for he cannot 
prove that I owe him anything. I am in 
luck for once in my life." Mrs. Black 
had replied by cautioning her husband 
about speaking of such a matter upon 
the street, and they had passed on, en- 
tering the gate close by, not observing 
Waite, who stood screened from view by 
a clump of lilacs. He was cross-exam- 
ined, but no new facts were elicited. 

Faunie sat like one in a dream until a 
voice— the one voice in all the world to 
her — reached her ear, and then she sank 
back into her seat, drawing her veil 
closely over her face- and listened. 

Ralph Carey was sure he was in the 
right, and he worked with his whole soul. 
He pictured the aged man, homeless and 
penniless, prematurely aged by his 
losses and the wickedness of one he had 
aided in the kindness of his heart. He 
related the scene in Black's store, the 
day following the fire, picturing the an- 
guish of the good Deacon in words of 
inspiration, and when at length he closed 
the argument there was a silence like 
that of death throughout the court house. 
The jury retired, but were out but a few 
moments, their verdict being unanimous- 
ly declared in favor of Deacon Gordon. 
Of course there were rejoicings among 
Deacon Gordon's friends, and the Dea- 
con himself seemed half wild with joy. 
Ralph did not approach the happy group 
and when they looked for him he had 



Christmas Eve; the stars shining 
brightly, the fall moon sailing majestic- 
ally through a cloudless sky, clear and 
intensely cold ; snow everywhere, crown- 
ing lofty hill tops and covering with a 
mantle of white the lowly valleys; cold, 
sparkling Christmas Eve. The morrow 
bade fair to be a lovely day — bright as 
Christmas ever should be. Perhaps 
Queen Luna shone down upon no hap- 
pier household in all the world than that 
of Deacon Gordon. A new house has 
been erected on the site of the burned 
cottage, handsomer and more commodi- 
ous, aud furnished tastefully throughout. 
The money, principal and interest, 

amounting in all to nearly three thou- 
sand dollars, Samuel Black had paid 
over without a word, but with the in- 
ward conviction, let us hope, that ** hon- 
esty is the best policy. " 

One month ago Deacon Gordon had 
sent for Ralph, and with tears in his eyes 
acknowledged his injustice, and at the 
same time had placed Fannie's hand in 
that of her lover, giving his full consent 
to their marriage, — and to-night, while 
the Christmas stars shine so brightly, 
and amid the best wishes of her numer- 
ous friends, sweet Fannie Gordon be- 
comes Ralph Carey's wife. 



The sentiment of domesticity owes 
much to Ameriea. The love ot home is 
strong in the human breast. It is con- 
firmed by a sense of absolute proprietor- 
ship. The privilege of a real home has 
induced maay a stranger to seek the 
American shores. The possession of a 
home has encouraged a sentiment of true 
patriotism. The consciousness of domes- 
tic possessions is the basis of a nobler 

American citizenship has been truer 
for the sense of an individual coparce- 
nary interest. Men are truest to that 
from which they anticipate returns of in- 
dividual advantage. This sentiment is 
the stronger for the advantage of im- 
proved individual possibilities. To live 
and hope is greater than simply to live 
alone. The prospect of social elevation, 
confirmed in many instances by practi- 
cal example, has made many an Ameri- 
can citizen more zealous of his country's 
integrity and honor. 

The honor of our land has been in- 
creased by the consciousness of the free- 
dom of moral and intellectual expression. 
The soul, released from fetters, expands 

her wings with alacrity. With its pow- 
ers in free play, human nature multiplies 
its proofs of nobler excellency till they 
are as many as the changes of the kalei- 
doscope. Forms of love and moulds of 
thought, like a multitude of blossoms 
upon one parent stalk, have been evolved 
to the enlargement of the scope of social 
benevolence and activity, from that life 
of freedom which is lived easiest on our 
own soil. 

The favors of the American system are 
not more numerous than the faults that 
have arisen from its misinterpretation. 
Men have mistook a domestic privilege 
for an abnegation of all moral obligation 
to society. When once the strong man 
has built his house, he has shut the door 
and kept it barred against the ingress of 
social liberality. Men have fondled, 
feasted and fattened their own seltish- 
ness. The language of their lives is : 
" As for me and my house, we will serve 
ourselves." They love self, live for self, 
die for self; the world derives no benefit 
from them except it comes from their 
unavoidable external dependence upon 
it. They will do nothing for social mor- 



ality, intelligence or civility, unless ac- 
tion be wrested from them by the strong 
arm of individual or local necessity. Ap- 
parently unable to comprehend citizen- 
ship, they call this a -free country," and 
hug their * k independence, " unmindful of 
the hinderance society incurs by their 
steadfast indifference to all true social 

Society in America suffers from a mis- 
construing of the royal privileges of na- 
tional citizenship. The conception of 
the rights of free citizens is distortedinto 
an apprehension of the wrongs of all cit- 
zens. The conception that free citizen- 
ship does not mean a free defiance of all 
the laws of true citizenship apparently 
fails of a residence in the minds'of many 
aspiring to prominence in our social af- 
fairs. The idea that it is practically im- 

rial, so vapid thoughts and feeble things 
arise profusely from the rich fields of 
moral and intellectual production laid 
open by our local system of free cultiva- 
tion. Because of the possession of free- 
dom, men have apparently concluded 
that greatness can not only be effected 
speedily, but in practical ignorance of 
the constructive laws which wisdom has 
always held inviolable throughout the 
historic past. 

We do not feel adequate to an exercise 
of the faculty of prescience sufficient to 
state in emphatic detail the future of our 
common country. We know it is in its 
infancy, toddling in its first steps. We 
feel sure its fulfilled life will be distinc- 
tive. Life in America can never be just 
what it is anywhere else. As the indi- 
vidual man is endowed with a person and 

possible for a person to assume the duties features that are uncopied in the form of 
of public use, except for an absolutely any one else, so this nation will have a 

private end, is too painfully prevalent in 
America. The sensitiveness of the truly 
loyal citizen is often shocked by re- 
marks betraying the wide-spreading 
dominance of the ascription of abject 
selfishness to all public acts. To the pub- 
lic apprehension it seems to be unhap- 
pily true that the public servant is a 
thief, and the thief cometh not -but to 

constitution and executive policy unlike 
that obtaining in any other political 
realm. The distinctive life of our Amer- 
ican nation will be unitary in expression. 
Potentially, it is so now. The Ameri- 
can citizen cannot now go abroad with- 
out betraying his nationality by his dis- 
tinctive .personal bearing and address. 
It only remains for the American people 

appropriate the revenues and destroy the to actualize their unified identity in the 

reputations of others. The unfortunate deeper consciousness of their souls, to 

state of mind portrayed can be encour- make it a bond of permanent social 

aged by no other means than the irrational unanimity. But the unity of our nation 

attitudes and acts of public men who 
have turned royal freedom into servile 

Our American social intelligence is in- 
toxicated with a false notion of the laws 
of real development. A fungoid exhala- 
tion is mistaken for a gigantic growth. 
The many moral and intellectual perfec- 
tions, the tedious developing processes 

will be composite in character. Human 
nature cannot do less than material — 
assume an organic form. While our 
American system will leave out nothing 
coming within the legitimate circle of its 
influences, it will embody all in a struc- 
ture of harmonic national proportions. 
Its strength will make every man ac- 
knowledge his obligations to society, its 

of which are all unseen by the indolent judgment will make men forbear their 
observer, are not only estimated as pro- abuse of its royal privileges, and its wis- 
ducts of a single day's creation, but are dom will effectually dispossess its sub- 
imitated and substituted by the frailest jectsof presumption and folly in the as- 
forms the soul's evolving agencies can sertion of their individual moral and in- 
afford. As the fnngi spring rapidly from tellectual aspirations, 
accumulated heaps of fertilizing mate- 



One law, among all wondrous laws. 
For us the great Creator made, 

Linked closely with effect and cause ; 
Bold contrast— light and shade. 

Deep in its mystical reserve 

Explores the artist, wrapt in strange 
Excitement, as with trembling nerve 

Deeper, and with a ruling touch. 
Sublime in each conception, paints 

Dame Nature, rearing contrasts, such 
As harmonize with saints. 

Extending on to ev'ry soul, 

By it God speaks : " Drink ye who thirst." 
While onward pressing to the goal — 

" The last shall enter first." 

Emerging from the deepening night 

Into the brightness of mid-day, 
To that vain-longing, clouded sight, 

Intense would glow each ray. 

Crusts to the famishing beggar-child 
As sweetmeats to the favored are; 

To sharpened taste unreconciled, 
Those sweets, how sweeter far! 

We, who could always lightly trip 
O'er the bright greensward of our youth, 

Guessed not our crippled mate could sip 
Joys greater ; yet 'twas truth. 

So martyrs in life's tangled way, 
Deep sunk in secret darkness, will 

With eyes re-opened in that day 
See beauties greater still I 

— Boreas. 




The opinion widely prevails in this 
State that no history of some of the ear- 
lier and more important battles of the 
Revolution, yet written, does full justice 
to the New Hampshire troops engaged 
in them. Emphatic expression is given 
to this sentiment in an interesting paper 
contributed by Prof. E. D. Sanborn to 
the November number of the Granite 
Monthly, with the above caption. 

In that paper, Prof. S., with unques- 
tioned truth says : '* That at Bunker Hill 
the New Hampshire regiments under the 
command of John Stark and James Reed 
were among the best fighters in the bat- 
tle." Again, after stating that at the 
commencement of the action, Prescott's 
men had been diminished to seven or 
eight hundred, Prof. S. further says that 
the historian M Bancroft concludes that 
not more than 1500 men participated in 
the fight, and if so, a majority must have 
been from New Hampshire." 

It is not proposed in this article to say 
anything of the proportion those two 
New Hampshire regiments bore to the 
whole number of American troops engag- 
ed in that battle; but it would be a nat- 
ural, not to say a necessary inference 
from the paper of Pof. S., that the only 
New Hampshire soldiers known or sup- 
posed to have participated in it were 
those two regiments commanded by Cols. 
Reed and Stark. But there still exists 
an abundance of the best evidence that 
such was not the fact. An inspection of 
the original company Rolls of Col. Pres- 
cott's own regiment, still preserved in 
the office of the Massachusetts Secretary 
of State at Boston, will show that one 
full company ot his regiment were New 
Hampshire soldiers from the town of Hol- 
lis, and also that there were four other 
Hollis soldiers in the company of Capt. 
Moor in the same regiment. Besides 
these men from Hollis, it is shown by the 

same original Rolls that in other compa- 
nies in this regiment there were seventeen 
men from Londonderry, eleven horn Mer- 
rimack, six from Raby (now Brookline), 
and others from other New Hampshire 
towns, making in all not less than one 
hundred, or more, New Hampshire sol- 
diers. As the article of Prof. S. is whol- 
ly silent in respect to these New Hamp- 
shire soldiers in this regiment, and as no 
known history of this State or of the bat- 
tle gives New Hampshire, or the towns 
above named credit for them, it may be 
a pertinent supplement to. that article of 
Prof. S. to tell briefly the story at least 
of that portion of these New Hampshire 
men who went from the town of Hollis. 

Hollis (spelled Holies in the town char- 
ter, and all the early town records), was 
on the south line of New Hampshire, 
about forty-five miles N. W. of Boston, 
and twenty-three from Concord, Mass., 
as the roads were in 1775. By the Prov- 
ince Census, taken in September of that 
year, it then contained 1255 inhabitants, 
being next to Amherst the most popu- 
lous town in Hillsborough county. 

Late at night of the ISth of April, the 
detachment of British troops under the 
command of Lt. Col. Smith, crossed over 
from Boston Common to East Cambridge 
on their march to Lexington and Con- 
cord. The alarm of this expedition, as 
is well known, was at once spread 
through the country by mounted messen- 
gers. According to a well established 
tradition, the news of it was brought to 
Hollis early in the morning of the 19th, 
by Dea. John Boynton, who lived in the 
South part of the town, near the Prov- 
ince line, and was a member of the Hol- 
lis "Committee of Observation" — who 
came riding through the town at the top 
of bis horse's speed, calling out to his 
townsmen, as he passed, •* The Tied Coats 
are coming and killing our men J" Riding 


at full speed and out of breath (as the 
tradition is). Dea. B. announced his mes- 
sage at the door of Capt. W., another 
member of the same Committee, living 
near the middle of the towu, who had 
just risen from an early breakfast, and 
was then standing at his looking-glass, 
with his face well lathered and in the act 
of shaving. Capt. W., without stopping 
to finish his work, with his face still 
whitened for the razor, at once dropped 
that instrument, hurried to his stable, 
mounted his horse, and in that plight 
aided in spreading the alarm. Other 
mounted messengers were soon despatch- 
ed to other parts of the town, and in the 
afternoon of the same day ninety-two 
minute men were rallied and met on the 
Hollis Common, each with his comple- 
ment of bullets, powder-horn, and one 
pound of powder supplied from the 
town's stock. 

Among the incidents of the same day 
a story is told of five brothers of the 
name of Nevins, then living in the North 
part of the town, all of whom w r ere af- 
terwards in the army, which well illus- 
trates the spirit and promptness with 
which these minute men met this alarm. 
On the morning of the 19th three of these 
brothers were at work with their crow- 
bars, digging stone for a wall, at a short 
distance from their home. As the mes- 
senger came in sight, they had just par- 
tially raised from its bed a large flat 
stone in a farm road-way. Seeing the 
horseman spurring towards them at full 
speed, one of the brothers put a small 
boulder under the larger stone to keep it 
at the height to which it had been raised, 
and all stopped to listen to the message. 
Having heard it. leaving the stone just 
as it was in the road-way, with the little 
boulder to support it, they all hastened 
to the house, and each of them with his 
gun and equipments at once hurried 
away to join their company on the Hollis 
Common. One of the brothers was af- 
terwards killed at Bunker Hill; another, 
the next year, lost his life in the service 
in New York. As a family memento of 
this incident this large stone, with the 
small one supporting it, was permitted 
to remain for more than seventy-five 
years in the position the brothers had 

left it on the morning of the 19th of 

These minute men, having made choice 
of Reuben Dow as their Captain, John 
Goss Lieutenant, and John. Cumings 
Ensign, on the evening of that day, or 
before day-break the next morning were 
on their march from Hollis to Cambridge. 
An original muster roll of this company, 
preserved by Capt. Dow. is now among 
the Revolutionary documents of Hollis, 
and a copy of it, showing the names of 
its officers and ninety-two members, with 
the date of their enlistment, time of ser- 
vice, daily wages, pay for travel, and the 
amount paid each of them by the town, 
may be found in the New England His- 
torical and Gen. Register for 1S73, pp. 
332, 333. Thirty-nine of the privates of 
this company, after an absence of from 
six to twelve days, returned home. The 
residue, with but few if any exceptions, 
remained at Cambridge and enlisted in 
other companies for eight months. A 
large majority of those men who stayed 
at Cambridge enlisted in a new company 
commanded by the same commissioned 
officers chosen at Hollis, and were after- 
wards mustered into the Massachusetts 
regiment of Col. Prescott. This new 
company, commanded by Capt. Dow, in- 
cluding officers, consisted of fifty-nine 
men, that number making a full company 
under the Massachusetts act for enlist- 
ment. That the whole fifty-nine were 
from Hollis is shown by the Return Mus- 
ter Roll of the company, dated October 
6, 1775, exhibiting the names of the liv- 
ing, wounded and dead, now to be found 
with the muster rolls of Col. Prescott's 
regiment in Boston, and this was the only 
company of the regiment in which all 
the men were from the same town. Be- 
sides the company of Capt. Dow, and 
the four Hollis soldiers in the company 
of Capt. Moor, nine others from Hollis 
enlisted in a company commanded by 
Capt. Archaleus Towne of Amherst, af- 
terwards mustered into a Massachusetts 
regiment under Col. Hutchinson, and 
eight others in the company of Capt. Levi 
Spalding of Nottingham West (now 
Hudson) in the New Hampshire regiment 
of Col. Reed. These numbers added 
make eighty eight months men enlisted 


from Hollis, at Cambridge, of whom sev- 
enty-tico were in Massachusetts regi- 

Capt. Dow's company, with the other 
companies of Col. Prescott's regiment, 
marched on to the battle ground in 
Charlestown, on the night of the 16th of 
June, aided in the night work of build- 
ing the redoubt, and in its defence the 
next day. From an original descriptive 
list of this company, still among the 
Hollis documents, exhibiting the ages of 
the men and also their height and com- 
plexion, it appears that Peter Cumings, 
a son of the Ensign, and the youngest 
member, was of the age of thirteen years, 
and that the oldest, Jonathan Powers, 
was sixty. Noah Worcester. Jr., the 
fifer of the company, and Major fifer at 
Bennington, the youngest next to Cum- 
ings, was sixteen. He was the son of 
Capt. Noah Worcester, and many years 
after was known as Noah Worcester, 
D.D., whose monument now stands in 
the Cemetery at Mt. Auburn, Mass., with 
the following inscription : 


M Erected by his Friends in commem- 
oration of his zeal and labors in the cause 
of Peace and. of the consistency of his 
character as a Christian Philanthropist 
and Divine." " Speaking the truth in 

The following terse and touching rec- 
ord of the Orderly Sergeant, copied ver- 
batim from the foot of the Return Roll 
of the company, now in the office of the 
Secretary of State at Boston, tells the 
sad tale of the company's dead : 

" These are the Homes of the Dead." 
Sergt. Nathan Blood, Hollis, died June 17. 

Phineas Nevins, 


died June 17. 

Thomas Wheat, 


died June 17. 

Peter Poor, 


died June 17. 

Caleb Eastman, 


died June 19. 

Isaac Hobait, 


died June 17. 

Jacob Boynton, 


died June 17. 

These two Died by Sickness. 

James Fisk, Hollis, died Mav 29. 

Jeremiah Sfaattuck, Hollis, died Mav 29. 

[Signed] JOSHUA BorSTO.V, Orderly Sergi." 

Besides the six Hollis soldiers above 
named, killed on the 17th of June at Bun- 
ker Hill, Thomas Colburn and Ebenezer 
Youngman, two of the minute men who 
left Hollis on the 19th of April, and en- 
listed in the company of Capt. Moor, 
were also killed in the battle, making 
eight in all; a los.s in killed, as is believ- 

ed, greater than that sustained by any 
other town in Massachusetts or New 
Hampshire. Six of Captain Dow's com- 
pany were also wounded in the fight, in- 
cluding the Captain himself, who was af- 
terwards a cripple and pensioner for life. 

It appears from Erothingham's Siege 
of Boston (p. 192) that the whole loss in 
killed in Col. Prescott's regiment, was 
forty-two, and twenty-eight wounded. 
Of those numbers nearly one-fifth of the 
killed, and. more than that proportion of 
the wounded were Hollis soldiers. 

Col. Stark, in his letter to Matthew 
Thornton, written two days after the 
battle, says that the loss of his own regi- 
ment in killed and missing was fifteen — 
the killed and missing in Col. Reed's he 
states as four. (X. H. Collections, p. 
145.) It appears from the above statis- 
tics that the loss of Hollis in killed at 
Bunker Hill was fully equal to two-fifths 
of both the killed and missing of the two 
New Hampshire regiments. 

It is now impossible to learn with cer- 
tainty how many of Capt. Dow's compa- 
ny were present in the action. But it is 
shown by a return of the losses of the 
men made after the battle, exhibiting the 
articles lost and their value, now in the 
possession of the writer, that twenty- 
eight of them, not reckoning the killed 
or commissioned officers, lost more or 
less of their equipments. From this re- 
turn it appears that twenty-five of the 
men lost their knapsacks, nine of them 
their guns, two their bayonets, three 
their cartridge boxes and one his sword. 
It may not be impertinent to state in this 
connection, that the eight Hollis soldiers 
in Captain Spalding's company, in Col. 
Reed's New Hampshire regiment, were 
all present at the battle, as it is shown by 
a like return of losses made afterwards 
that each of the eight lost some portion 
of his equipments. See X. H. Prov. Pa- 
pers, vol. VII., p 591. 

At this late day it is difficult to ascer- 
tain with certainty all the reasons that 
may have influenced so many of the Hol- 
lis soldiers to enlist in the regiment of 
Col. Prescott. But the following well 
known facts undoubtedly had their in- 

Col. Prescott at the time lived very 


near the North line of Pepperell, Mass., 
adjoining Hoi lis, a large part of his farm, 
(still the country seat of his descend- 
ants), being in Hollis. Both Capt. Dow 
and Lieut. Goss, of the Hollis company, 
lived in the South part of Hollis, and 
were the neighbors, and may well be 
supposed to have been the personal 
friends of Col. Preseott. Another rea- 
son that would naturally have much 
weight with the private soldiers of the 
company, was the fact that a very large 
part of the early settlers of Hollis were 


from Billerica, Chelmsford, Littleton, 
Groton and Pepperell, and other towns 
in Middlesex county, in which most of 
the companies in Col. Prescott's regi- 
ment were raised. It may be added to 
these motives that Col. John Hale, one 
of the leading and most active friends of 
the Revolution in Hollis, and at the time 
the Colonel of the regiment of militia to 
which the Hollis soldiers belonged, was 
brother-in-law of Col. Preseott, Abigail 
Hale, a sister of Col. H., having become 
the wife of Col. Preseott. 



American literature is most prolific in 
newspapers and school books. The best 
minds in the country have labored in both 
these departments, for two potent rea- 
sons: such works are popular, and they 
pay well. Foreigners regard this condi- 
tion of things as proof of the general ed- 
ucation of the people and of the superfi- 
cial character of their knowledge. The 
many read; the few think. There is a 
general desire for information, but no 
deep love of learning. Knowledge is 
more widely diffused, but scholarship is 
less profound than in the old world. 
What we gain in surface w r e lose in 
depth. The political press stimulates, 
fires and almost maddens the public 
mind ; but it fails to elevate, expand and 
instruct. It tells wonderfully in molding 
public opinion, but it does not tell the 
truth. It requires months to sift a popu- 
lar rumor before it can be pronounced re- 
liable. It may be doubted whether, dur- 
ing the war, with all the aid of steam and 
electricity, the people of New England 
ascertained the exact results of a battle 
in the South so soon as our fathers did, 
in Revolutionary times, when a dispatch 
was carried from the commander-in- 
chief by a single courier on horseback. 
Unwelcome intelligence i3 always soften- 

ed or suppressed by a partisan press, 
and if our public journals were simply 
vehicles of political opinions they would 
scarcely deserve the patronage they re- 
ceive. Every newspaper contains much 
valuable matter of a literary, moral and 
religious character. Such compositions 
give to the press its power to please and 
instruct, and thus to educate the common 
mind. By such agencies the American 
people have become the best informed, 
though by no means the most learned, 
people in the world. In general informa- 
tion, in extemporaneous tact and practi- 
cal skill, the Yankee has no peer; <but in 
thorough discipline, in exact knowledge 
and artistic culture, the French and Ger- 
mans surpass the New Englander. 

But the present is emphatically au age 
of text-books. The press fills the land 
with the multitudinous products of busy 
minds, in the shape of grammars, arith- 
metics, readers, geographies, charts, 
maps, keys and interpretations to relieve 
weak minds of the " insupportable fa- 
tigue of thought," and make the arcana 
of science intelligible to tUe- meanest and 
feeblest capacity. Well may we address 
most assemblies of teachers as Paul did 
the Corinthians who coveted novelties in 
religion: " How is it, brethren? when ye 



come together every one of you hath a 
psalm, hath a doctrine, hath a tongue, 
hath a revelation, hath an interpretation. 
Let all things be done unto edifying." 
The world's teachers in past ages were 
educated without helps, except from the 
living voice. The Greeks and Romans 
were well trained by reading, studying 
and criticising their own standard au- 
thors. The writing of themes and pub- 
lic declamations daily constituted the 
chief mental training of Greek and Ro- 
man statesmen, orators, historians, poets 
and philosophers. Science, so far as 
they cultivated it, was taught by prob- 
lems, theorems, dictation and lectures. 
Libraries were few, text-books rare, and 
tutorial helps unknown. In the dark 
ages, Latin and Greek authors were the 
chief objects of study. In logic, rhetoric 
and metaphysics, Aristotle has been the 
great educator of all the generations of 
scholars that have lived since his day. 
His works gave birth to the scholastic 
philosophy and to modern dialectics. 
The text-books that existed prior to 
the seventeenth century were chiefly 
grammars and lexicons for the study of 
the learned tongues, and commentaries 
on the ancient poets and philosophers. 
The physical sciences were almost un- 
known, and mathematics included only 
arithmetic and geometry. From the fifth 
to the fifteenth century, learning be- 
longed chiefly to the clergy. Schools 
and colleges were founded for their ben- 
efit. Between the Conquest, A. D. 1066, 
and the death of King John, one hundred 
and lift y years, five hundred and fifty-seven 
religious houses of all kinds were estab- 
lished in England. This would be equiv- 
alent, in a population of perhaps two and 
a half millions, to the founding of several 
thousand colleges, in a similar period, 
with ten times the population and one 
hundred times as much wealth as they 
possessed. It must be remembered that 
these monasteries were all richly en- 
dowed. A single monastery has fed five 
hundred beggars daily for years. They 
owned large landed estates, with impos- 
ing and commodious buildings and libra- 
ries of respectable size, when a manu- 
script was worth as much as a small 
farm. The chief schools of the a^e were 

connected with religious houses. A 
small number or secular schools existed, 
in large cities, for laymen. London had 
three in the reign of Henry II. The 
twelfth century is the age of new univer- 
sities. These institutions first existed as 
schools or *• studies" before they were 
incorporated as universities. The oldest 
are those of Bologna, Paris, Oxford and 
Cambridge. Oxford is said to have been 
founded by Alfred, because there existed 
a school in that city in his day. In 1109, 
Cambridge University was set up, iu a 
barn, by three monk* from Croyland. 
This private enterprise grew so rapidly 
that, in less than one century from its 
humble beginning. Peter of Blois, the 
historian, says of it: "From this little 
fountain, which hath swelled into a great 
river, we now behold the city of God 
made . glad and all England rendered 
fruitful by many teachers and Doctors 
issuing from Cambridge after the like- 
ness of holy Paradise." 

The studies of this period were em- 
braced in the celebrated trivium and 
quadrivium of the schools ; the first com- 
prehending grammar, rhetoric and logic ; 
the second, music, arithmetic, geometry 
and astronomy. These seven studies 
constituted the whole curriculum of a 
liberal education. The mastery of these, 
by seven years of toil, made a man mas- 
ter of arts, and authorized him, with con- 
sent of the magnates, to set up a schola 
or studium of his own and become a 
learned Doctor in the liberal arts. The 
process of instruction was principally by 
dictation and lectures on the part of the 
teachers, and by themes and discussions 
on the part of the pupils. The historian 
informs us that in a very few years after 
the opening of a school in Cambridge the 
number of scholars had increased so 
much that there was no barn, house or 
church capable of containing them. Con- 
sequently they divided their flock and 
met in different parts of the town where 
they could find temporary accommoda- 
tions. u Brother Odo read grammar, ac- 
cording to the doctrine of Priscian. to the 
younger students in the morning At 
one o'block brother Tenicius, a most 
acute sophist, read the logic of Aristotle 
to those who were more advanced. At 


three o'clock brother William read lec- 
tures on Tully's Rhetoric and Quintil- 
ian's Institutes. But Master Gislebert, be- 
ing ignorant of English, but very expert 
in Latin and French, preached to the peo- 
ple on Sundays and holidays." Think 
of the absurdity of attempting to en- 
lighten the illiterate men of that age by 
Latin homilies. The painted windows, 
pictures, statues, and the miracles and 
moralities of the infant drama were all 
introduced to aid the people in under- 
standing the priest, who spoke in an un- 
known tongue. Often, when the dis- 
course was upon a parable" or a portion 
of the sacred history of the Bible, a neo- 
phyte stood before the pulpit and held up 
a banner to the people on which the scene 
which was the text of the day was por- 
trayed, so that some gleams of knowl- 
edge might enter the eye when the ear 
was closed. 

What a harvest for a modern book agent 
would Oxford of the thirteenth century 
present, where 30,000 students were con- 
gregated, and where there was neither 
horn-book nor primer, key nor chart, 
translation nor commentary on which 
these young men,thirsting for knowledge, 
could fasten their eager eyes ! But without 
helps they became mentally great, for 
u there were giants in those days." Be 
it remembered, also, that the founders of 
English literature and science, such men 
as Spenser and Shakespeare, Raleigh and 
Hooker, Bacon and Hobbes, Sidney and 
Milton, were educated by the study of 
classic authors, with very imperfect 
helps. The thoughts which they origi- 
nated require dilution to make them pal- 
atable to a modern student. All these 
men presented the best models of pure, 
vtgorous aud elegant English, without a 
dictionary of the language they used and 
perfected. There existed in the Elizabe- 
than age some Latin and English, some 
Greek and Latin lexicons, but no com- 
plete vocabulary of the English tongue. 
Some attempts were made, from time to 
time, to define the " hard words" and 
explain technical terms in English ; but 
the majority of English terms remained 
without explanation till Bailey's Com- 
prehensive Dictionary appeared, about 
the year 1720. Prior to the publication 


of Johnson's great work, in 1755, about 
sixty lexicons of all languages studied in 
England had appeared ; but few of these 
attempted to define common English 
words. " The object of the first lexi- 
ogriphal labor in England was to 
facilitate the study ofthe Latin lan- 
guage ; afterwards, that of the Greek, 
and also of foreign modern languag- 
es, and it was in these bi-lingual dic- 
tionaries that the common English 
words were first collected." The great 
excellency of Johnson's Dictionary was 
the historical illustrations of the lan- 
guage which he furnished by quoting, 
from the best English authors, passages 
to show how every important word in 
the language was used. He thus made 
his dictionary a store-house of the best 
thoughts of standard writers and a very 
readable and instructive book apart from 
its definitions. Since the publication of 
Johnson's Dictionary more than one hun- 
dred English dictionaries have appeared, 
and nearly two hundred others, which 
are styled glossaries, encyclopaedias, pro- 
fessional, technical and artistic dictiona- 
ries. During the same period other text- 
books have multiplied in a similar ra- 
tio. The Germans have investigated and 
copiously illustrated every department 
of archeology. The classics have re- 
ceived special attention. Every author 
of antiquity, every chapter, sentence, 
word and letter of every author, has been 
carefully examined, criticised and ex- 
plained. We have lexicons which give 
the history of every word in the lan- 
guage, illustrated by quotations from 
successive authors who lived through 
the entire period in which the language 
was used in composition. We have 
grammars explaining every anomaly, 
exception and deviation from the best 
usage, with philosophical analyses of 
every particle, including its etymology, 
distinctive meaning, and both its regular 
and exceptional use during the whole 
history of the language. An entire vol- 
ume has been written upon a single Greek 
particle, and its contents have been quite 
well mastered by English stud ants who 
could not give the etymology of a single 
particle of their native tongue, and who 
would not dare to affirm that our con- 

nectives had any meaning at all. They 


are generally regarded as mere insignifi- 
cant hooks and bands, which use has em- 
ployed to unite the significant parts of 
speech. With all this apparatus for the 
study of the classics, it may be doubted 
whether they are, to-day, so thoroughly 
mastered as instruments of thought and 
speech as they were two centuries ago. 
When scholars learned the Greek and 
Latin from extensive reading and com- 
parison of ancient authors, they were 
enabled to think, write and speak in them 
as well as in the tongues in which they 
were born. The languages are not now 
studied for the same purposes as former- 
ly. They used to be the only media of 
communication among learned men, 
hence they were compelled to learn to 
speak and write them with facility. Now 
they are studied for discipline, for infor- 
mation, as models in grammar and rhet- 
oric, as a grand thesaurus of philology, 
etymology and scientific nomenclature. 
W r ebster's Dictionary contains 114,000 
words; yet the scientific terms alone de- 
rived from the Greek and Latin, all told, 
would probably amount to double this 
number. Numerous helps are often an 
encumbrance to the learner ; as too heavy 
armor impedes the warrior. They are 
unfavorable to originality. 

Martin Luther made his address before 
the diet of Worms first in German ; but 
the Emperor preferring to hear it in 
Latin, when exhausted by his long speech 
before this august body, he was required 
to repeat it in Latin. After a moment's 
breathing time he began again and re- 
peated his address in Latin with undi- 
minished power. It may be doubted 
whether the man now lives who could, 
extemporaneously, perform such a task. 
Yet our helps for the study of all lan- 
guages, living and dead, have, since his 
day, increased a hundred fold. 

We have too many introductory books. 
When an author makes one successful 
effort in text-book venture, he feels bound 
to make a score. Dr. Anthonmadeat least 
forty. Only one grammar should ever 
be used in learning any language. The 
declension and paradigms, the rules and 
exceptions of the language should all be 
learned from one book. There is great 

advantage in associating the facts and 
principles with the pages where they are 
recorded. They are then easily found 
when needed for use. The grammar 
first put into the learner's hand should 
accompany him through the college and 
seminary. A single preparatory reader, 
adapted to the grammar in use, is all that 
any pupil needs to introduce him to the 
classic authors themselves. It would be 
better to have but one lexicon, and thus, 
very early in the course, learn to select 
the right meaning for each particular 
sentence. In this there is great utility 
in point of accuracy and thoroughness. 
Forty years ago, one text-book in any 
department of education was deemed suf- 
ficient. Now a boy does not use any one 
book long enough to know its contents 
so as to find what he needs by the power 
of association. No author is content to 
publish a single school book of any kind, 
at the present day. They come in series 
now: and in the modern u battle of the 
books " the warriors march no longer in 
single file, but move in companies, regi- 
ments and battalions. lk Single misfor- 
tunes," said an Irish priest, "seldom come 
unattended." Our books are mostly 
" progressive," showing the unparalleled 
march of iutellect in our day ; in fact, 
it has, in some schools, marched out of 
sight. Precisely at the time when the 
price of books is double what it used to 
be, and when purchasers have not one- 
half as much money as they once had, 
the number of text-books has increased 
ten fold. I have seen an advertisement 
of Robinson's complete mathematical 
series, amounting to twenty-one volumes. 
Here are more books than most farmers 
and mechanics ever own. In my boy- 
hood it was rare to find intelligent labor- 
ers who owned that number of books. 
One arithmetic then sufficed to make 
good accountants. One book then made 
good arithmeticians, and no keys were 
used. Now, no arithmetic that has any 
difficult problems to be solved is pub- 
lished without a key. How absurd is it 
for an author to scour the world for 
" hard sums," as they are called, and 
then work them all himself and offer the 
solutions, for a consideration, to the 
young aspirant for mathematical prizes ! 


I remember working, with another boy, 
through many long winter evenings, by 
fire-light, on the *• hard sums " in Walsh's 
arithmetic, because onr teacher, who 
could not or would not work them, made 
us believe that we were " right smart at 
figures," and that it would be infinitely 
to our credit to have it said at the exam- 
ination that we worked every problem 
without the teacher's aid. We made our 
own keys. We not only solved every 
problem but wrote it out neatly and ele- 
gantly in a manuscript prepared for the 
purpose. This is the only true method 
of success. 

" He who depends on his own wind and limbs 
.Needs neither cork nor bladder when he swims." 

Who neetfs a key to common arithmetic? 
If any, speak, for him have I offended. 
If the poor blind guide who affects to 
keep school, and does not teach it, can 
not solve such problems as are necessary 
to fit men for ordinary business, there 
are always found bright boys in every 
school who can do the work for him. 

In the same advertising pamphlet be- 
fore quoted I find nine readers, consti- 
tuting kW Sargent's Series of Readers." 
If but one series existed, we might be 
content to bear the burden with uncom- 
plaining patience, but the number of 
these series is legion, and like Greeks 
and Trojans they maintain a ten years 
war with one another. The very recom- 
mendations which urge their respective 
claims would make a respectable library. 
Every series contains rive or six volumes. 
Thirty years ago one reader and one 
spelling book satisfied the wants of com- 
mon schools, high schools and academies. 
Murray's English Reader with Webster's 
Spelling Book were the only leading 
books I ever used in the town school and 
academy. When I became a teacher, 
Porter's Rhetorical Reader was general- 
ly substituted for Murray's. These were 
excellent books, and they have never 
been surpassed in the excellence of their 
selections. W^hen once read, they were 
read again, till most of the finest pas- 
sages from the old English authors were 
learned by heart. The educational pow- 
er of such books cannot be over-estimat- 
ed. They furnish the current maxims 
and apt quotations of practical life. 


Now, as soon as the stories, dialogues, 
humorous narratives and political ora- 
tions, which crowd the pages of modern 
text-books, have been once read, the pru- 
rient fancy of the learner, like Oliver 
Twist, asks for more, and a second read- 
er is furnished. The great objection to 
one book is that they have read it till 
they are weary of it; and yet not one pu- 
pil who uses the book can read with the 
best expression and emphasis one single 
piece of the selections, or give the rhetor- 
ical rules for emphasis, cadence, accent, 
pitch and melody of a single paragraph. 
Elocutionists, who astonish the unsophis- 
ticated with their oratorical skill, prac- 
tice upon one piece for months, possibly 
for years, before they venture to read it 
in public for criticism. Repetition is the 
law of success in teaching any art or sci- 

The great defect in our diversified cul- 
ture is the want of certain information. 
W r e know a little of many things, but 
have not much definite knowledge of any- 
thing. It is in vain for pupil or teacher 
to exclaim : * ; I know, but can't tell." 
No such mental condition is possible. If 
a man knows, he can tell. Clear concep- 
tions are not, like farewell emotions, too 
deep for utterance. Hence, it is better 
to master the first book before we pass 
to the second ; for it is as true of the 
kingdom of knowledge as of the kingdom 
of grace : 4t Whosoever hath, to him shall 
be given, and he shall have more abund- 
ance." Books are now changed so often 
as to tax the memory of the pupil to tell 
w r hat subjects he has studied or where he 
first heard of them ; and they tax the 
purse of the parent still more to pay for 
them. How are the poor to be furnished 
with books? Where the books used in 
town schools arc multiplied by tens and 
scores, people of limited means cannot 
supply large families with the mental 
food required without abridging their 
material food. Greenleaf's popular se- 
sie3 of mathematics numbers ten vol- 
umes. In teaching arithmetic two only 
are needed; all beyond this is a mental 
and pecuniary encumbrance. With Col- 
burn's Intellectual Arithmetic and some 
good manual of written arithmetic thor- 
oughly studied and understood, any 



bright boy may become the nation's 
champion in figures. One algebra and 
one geometry are sufficient tor all the 
wants of all the iuventors, designers, en- 
gineers and architects in the world while 
under tutors and governors. When thus 
educated, ( they can pursue the higher 
mathematics without a teacher. Gram- 
mars, geographies and philosophies for 
infant minds, are all comparatively 
worthless; for children should be con- 
fined to the elementary branches of learn- 
ing, reading, spelling, writing and arith- 
metic, till they have sufficient mental 
matui ity to understand any well prepared 
treatise on those higher subjects. Then 
one book in either of those departments 
will supply all their reasonable wants. 

The ornamental branches, as well as 
the useful, like Tarpeia, are overwhelmed 
by their treasures. Book-makers, like 
Neptune of old, if they cannot govern 
Attica, seem determined to flood it. A 
new French grammar, reader, phrase- 
book and text-book, crowded with ques- 
tions, notes and explanations, come to 
us every year, possibly every month. A 
young lady who has practiced music for 
five or six years, under different teach- 
ers, will have about half a cord of sheet 
music to be stored with other worthless 
lumber in the attic. The hymn-books 
and choir-books for divine service are 
counted by scores, and each denomina- 
tion has its own divine songs and sacred 
music; and these become obsolete in a 
few years. The laws of the material uni- 
verse all tend to unity ; the world of mind 
is developed in infinite diversity. 

Sabbath schools, too, have felt the 
pressure of book-makers, who, even in 
this department of sacred labor, are as 
manifestly moved to write by 4i needi- 
ness. greediness and vain-glory " as the 
veriest political scribbler of the hour. 
The Bible is over-loaded with annota- 
tions, commentaries, question-books and 
paraphrases. The books provided for 
Sabbath reading are chiefly tales, stories 
and biographies of consumptive children 
of precocious piety. Menzel, in his his- 
tory of German literature, thus speaks of 
such Christian essays prepared for young 
ladies: " These sentimental people think 
that because they have young girls in 

view, towards whom one should always 
be polite and tender, God's word, too, 
must be spoiled by softening down, dilut- 
ing and sweetening it for them. The lan- 
guage of the Bible seems to them alto- 
gether too rude and unmannerly, and so 
they extract from it, as from the power- 
ful forest plants, a little drop of essence 
only, mingle it with sugar, put it up in 
fine post paper, with a neat device, and 
give it to the dear little babes of grace to 
swallow, as a godly sugar-plum." 

Indeed, our popular literature upon all 
subjects, sacred and profane, is assum- 
ing the form of narrative, and finds ex- 
pression in stories, novels and romances. 
It is, therefore, rather superficial, en- 
tertaining and attractive, than pro- 
found, analytic and didactic. If a 
man were to read stories till he reached 
the age of Methuselah, he would not 
probably grow wiser or better. Novels 
do not make thinkers, inventors, discov- 
erers or benefactors. Neither do the 
miscalled helps of the school-room make 
able reasoners, wise counsellors and elo- 
quent orators. Whoever helps a boy to 
do what he can accomplish by the indus- 
trious use of his own unaided powers, 
does him an irreparable injury. It is the 
business of the teacher to awaken curi- 
osity, excite enthusiasm, stimulate indus- 
try and, by judicious suggestions, enable 
the student to achieve his own victories. 
The three great ends of education, disci- 
pline, information and expression, are se- 
cured by the hard study, careful reading 
and frequent speaking of the student 
himself. By application he acquires 
mental strength, by reading, intellectual 
stores, by speaking, oratorical skill. A 
good teacher may render invaluable as- 
sistance to his pupil by showing him how 
to think, how to learn and how to speak. 
But toil is the price every learner must 
pay for discipline, knowledge and utter- 
ance. A good book greatly aids the 
teacher in his arduous labors. But if the 
edge of the tool be blunt, he must put 
forth the more strength ; and. by that 
very process, become a more vigorous 
mental athlete. A book, like a key or 
copious commentary, that makes every- 
thing plain to the meanest capacity, is 
the meanest kind of a book. It degrades 


the" teacher and demoralizes the pupil. 
It discourages industry and promotes in- 
dolence. Innovation is not necessarily 
improvement. New processes of teach- 
ing are not always royal roads to learn- 
ing. New books are not, as a matter of 
course, true books. In many instances 
they are lsss valuable than the old. We 
boast of our freedom of thought and ac- 
tion, and yet much of our intellectual 
labor is performed by self-constituted 
agents. Candidates for office make our 
political creeds; bankers and brokers 
regulate our finance ; speculators control 
our markets; neighborhood gossips su- 
pervise our domestic affairs; and last, 
though not least, booksellers determine 
what school books and how many we 
shall use. Where we need only one, 
they furnish six; where we need only- 
two, they furnish twelve, and, by the 
arts of the trade, constrain us to buy 
them. The number of text-books, like 
the king's prerogative in Revolutionary 
times, has increased, is increasing, and 
ought to be diminished. We, like our 
fathers, are taxed without representation. 
We have no delegates in the councils of 
the Sanhedrim that decrees the issue of 
the books we must buy. It is high time 
for parents to assert their inalienable 
rights and contend manfully for life, lib- 
erty and the pursuit of knowledge. Xot 
a study pursued in our common schools 
can be named that has not at least twen- 
ty authors competiug for the public pat- 
ronage; and there is not one of these au- 
thors who has not a large intellectual 
progeny, and if you adopt one of the 
children the whole family will come and 
settle with you. From these rival claim- 


ants for popular favor it matters little 
which you choose, for they are all com- 
pilers, and the text which an old divine 
advised his young disciple to prefix to 
his new sermon would answer as a motto 
for them all : " Alas ! master ; for it was 
borrowed." One series of text-books in 
reading, arithmetic or grammar is about 
as good as auother; sometimes a little 
better; but as they are all derived from 
the same sources, when one is in use it is 
not wise^ to exchange it for another. 
Good teachers and industrious scholars 
will succeed with any one of them; and 
the positive excellence of any one of 
them is far less than the noisy puffers 
would have us believe. 

But if there is no end to the making of 
books, there is an end to writing about 
them, and an end to the patience of read- 
ers ; and, having written enough to call 
forth the sympathy of those who buy 
and the hostility of those who sell, I will, 
here and now, put a period to my desul- 
tory criticisms upon authors and books, 
and leave economy and cupidity to de- 
cide the controversy upon other fields. I 
will close with the poetic advice of 
Charles Matthews : 

" Now, to sum up the whole 

Of this long rigmarole, 
It's wise to give each man his station; 

It's really absurd 

To treat all as one herd, 
And drive all by the same education, 

Try and humor the bent 
With which each man is sent 

Duly stamped at the hour of his birth, 

And assist the poor creature 
• To better his nature 

And act well his part upon earth." 


Long years ago the lily was red as any rose that blows ; 
The rose was pure and pale as if she slept in Arctic snows. 
A gay young zephyr kissed, one day, the trembling rose; 
lledly she blushed with pride, and straightway grew a queenly flower; 
But the poor lily, with her broken heart, has been a nun from that sad hour. 

— Lucia Moses. 






CHAP. n. 
A year and more has passed since 
Charles Bradley left his New Hampshire 
hillside home to win fame and honor and 
worldly wealth, as he fondly hoped, in 
the New England metropolis. During 
all this time the friends who have loved 
him so well have received no message 
from him in answer to all their anxious 
letters of inquiry as to his situation and 
success in life, save a siugle brief note to 
Nellie, assuring her of his devotion, but 
announcing his determination to write 
no more to auy, not even her he loved so 
well, until he could tell of some sure 
progress toward the goal of his ambition ; 
so waiting, watching, hoping, the little 
family in the cottage on the hill have 
pursued the daily routine of labor and 

It is midnight in Boston. The streets 
are dark, deserted and desolate. The 
lamps afiord but a dull flickering light, 
and the air is filled with a sleety moisture 
which congeals on the pavement. Now 
and then a belated individual passes hur- 
riedly along, to home of comfort or abode 
of wretchedness — who shall say? •• Bos- 
ton by gaslight " is far from being at- 
tractive now, however different at times 
the case may be. Yonder, across the 
street, a party of young men emerge 
from a drinking saloon, and separating 
with careless words, go their various 
ways. Let us follow him, who crossing 
near us, turns into a side street and 
walks leisurely on, as though commun- 
ing with his thoughts. His figure seems 
familiar, and as he passes a street lamp, 
we discern the well-known features of 
Charles Bradley. There is less elasticity 
in his step than on that bright August 
morning of the previous year when he 
took his last walk over the old farm, and 

a look of dejection is discernable upon 
his countenance. We follow him on- 
ward, turning from street to street, till 
finally he passes up a narrow alley, and, 
enteaing a dingy-looking boarding-house 
ascends to the third story, where he en- 
ters a little room with bare floor and 
walls, and a single window, looking out 
upon no green fields and waving forests 
in summer, or snowy expanse of hill and 
vale in winter, such as greeted his wak- 
ing eyes each morn from the window of 
his room at the old homestead; but 
against a blank brick wall scarce a dozen 
feet away, across the little back court. 
Not a golden ray of sunlight in the morn- 
ing or a glimmer of stars at night finds en- 
trance to the room. No breath of flowers 
or music of wild birds, wafted on the 
breeze, could ever greet the senses of its 
occupant. A narrow bed, a solitary 
chair, a cfeeap wash-stand and a small 
looking-glass, with the same trunk in 
which he had packed his earthly posses- 
sions on the morning of his departure 
from home, constitute the entire furnish- 
ing of Charles Bradley's room. It is 
indeed a desolate retreat ; and yet it is 
in just such close, bare, uncomfortable 
rooms as this, with just such cheerless 
surroundings, and none of the comforts 
of the happy though humble homes they 
have left upon the farms all over New 
England, that hundreds and thousands 
of our young men are quartered after 
their hard day's toil in shop, or store, or 
market-place, or less desirable field of 
labor, if it so be that they have been for- 
tunate enough to find any honest em- 
ployment ! What wonder that some of 
them, yielding to despondency and des- 
peration, wander into the dark and de- 
vious ways of crime and dishonor, and 
that many more, unable to resist the 
temptations that beset them, are led by 



the allurements of vicious pleasure to ing parcels, receiving therefor a weekly 

spend their leisure hours in the gilded compensation hut little beyond the 

haunts of impurity, leading no less sure- amount required for board at the eheer- 

ly if not so directly, to the same deplora- less boarding-house where we now rind 

ble result! 

** Fifteen months in Boston and noth- 
ing yet accomplished, " exclaims the 
young man. as, having lighted his little 
lamp and thrown off his bat and coat he 
drops listlessly upon the bed. '* It is 
enough to make the bravest heart de- 
spair ; and yet I must resist these tempta- 
tions or I can never hope to succeed." 
Then with a firmer tone he add.*, i; I will 
break away fre>m these young meu 
whose acquaintance I have made, pleas- 
ant as their company is. It is dangerous, 
I know. A few more nights like this and 
I shall be beyond recovery." 

In these few words of soliloquy we 
have the key to Charles Bradley's expe- 
rience in Boston. Arriving in the city a 
total stranger, young and inexperienced, 
he soon found that instead of entering at 
at once on the high road to success his 
ambitious fancy had pictured, the most 
he could hope for for the time being, was 
to secure tne opportunity of earning a 
bare subsistance; and this, indeed, was 
no easy matter. Several days of fruit- 

hira, and which has been his only home 
since the state of his rapidly lessening 
means compelled the selection of the 
cheapest attainable accommodations. 
There he has labored steadily and faith- 
fully, though constantly hoping and anx- 
iously looking for a more favorable situ- 
ation, but hoping and looking in vain, as 
it appears thus far. 

Of late he has become intimate with 
several young men of about his own age, 
employed in neighboring stores, and in- 
stead of going to his boarding-house 
when the long day's work is ended, 
which is not till late in the evening, he 
has joined them in visiting cheap places 
of amusement and resorts of dissipation, 
where he has at times, although against 
his convictions of propriety, indulged in 
drinking, but never to excess; but to- 
night, as we have seen, he has realized 
his danger, and with the firm spirit, hap- 
pily not yet broken, fortified by that in- 
nate pride which often does more than 
all other influences to save young men 
from ruin, he has determined to break 

less enquiry passed before he found any- away from his associations before it is 
thing to do, and it was only, when the too late, 
small fund of ready money which Mr. 
Watson had furnished him with when he 
left home was nearly exhausted, and he 
felt compelled to search in those direc- 
tions which his pride had previously 
kept him from exploring. 

A few weeks have passed since the 
night when we saw Charles Bradley. 
There has come no change in his situa- 
tion. It is the same constaut round of 
Finally, and arduous toil from early morn till late at 

partially by accident, he fell in with a 
job teamster who wanted some assistance 
in loading and unloading goods which 
he was transporting from one of the de- 
pots to a large retail grocery store. It 

night. His employers are satisfied with 
his labors and know him to be honest and 
faithful, but. they have no better situation 
to give, and will make no increase in hi3 
wages, for, as they claim, they can hire 

was a short job, hard work and small others equally industrious and service- 
compensation, but better than nothing, able for the same, or even less. Indeed, 
and he had absolutely no alternative; he hardly a day passes but they are be- 
must do something at once, and he ac- sought more than once by intelligent ap- 

cordingly went to work and did his best. 
In a day or two the work was done; but 
the teamster promised him the chance to 
assist whenever he needed help again, 
and he thus had occasional employment 
for two or three week3, till he finally se- 
cured steady work at a grocery where he 

pearing young men from the country, 
who have been long seeking in vain for 
work in the city, to give them employ- 
ment at just such wages as will pay for 
the cheapest meals and the poorest lodg- 
ing. With no chance for promotion or 
increase of wages where he is. and no 

was engaged in putting up and deliver- prospect of more desirable or remunera- 



tive employment elsewhere, Charles has 
determined to make a change. His pres- 
ent condition seems hopeless; he can be 
no worse off anywhere, and there is a 
possibility at least that he cau do better 
in another place. But where shall he go, 
and how? 

He has thought much of the West, and 
many a time wished himself in Chicago. 
If he could only reach that great, grow- 
ing Western city, where there is so much 
to do and where great fortunes are quick- 
ly made, it has seemed to him a hundred 
times that he could find almost any posi- 
tion he might desire, and that advance- 
ment and wealth would surely and rapid- 
ly follow. But all the money he had in 
the world, after paying his week's board 
and other necessary bills, would go but 
a little way toward purchasing even a 
second-class ticket to Chicago. It would 
barely be sufficient to take him back to 
the old home in New Hampshire. Should 
he return, like the prodigal son, and re- 
sume his place in the old home circle? 
They would all gladly welcome him 
there, he had no doubt, and he would be 
happy indeed to see them all again, espe- 
cially the bright-eyed, warm-hearted 
Nellie, whom he had not ceased to love, 
though he had sent her no missive of af- 
fection for so many long months. Once 
he was almost tempted to go back, and, 
surrendering his ambitious hopes, re- 
sume the old round of farm labor. Cer- 
tainly it was not the mere dread of 
M drudgery,'* as he had once termed it, 
that prevented him from so doing, for he 
bad already learned enough of the out- 
side world to realize that he could no- 
where walk on to success through paths 
of ease and pleasure. His pride caine up 
in the way, and he could not vanquish it. 
He could not humiliate himself sufficient- 
ly to go home and admit his mistake and 
failure. A false pride we may term it, 
and yet it is the same obstacle which in 
thousands of cases has stood in the way 
of human happiness and prosperity. 
Few among us. indeed, there are who, 
at some time or other and perhaps very 
often, have not been influenced to a great- 
er or less extent by this same sentiment. 
Again the vision of his ambition came 
j up before him, and he determined to con- 

tinue its pursuit. 

To Chicago, then, he is resolved to go. 
but how to get there is a difficult ques- 
tion to solve. Some way he will accom- 
plish his purpose, even if he has to go on 
foot and earn his bread and lodging on 
the way by working at the farm-yards, 
or at any odd jobs he may secure. For- 
tune, however, favors him for once. 
Driving down a crowded street in the 
store wagon, on his way to deliver goods, 
a day or two later, he sees just ahead an 
old man who has missed his footing in 
crossing the street, and fallen to the pave- 
ment almost under the feet of a pair of 
horses attached to an omnibus, whose 
driver has not perceived the fallen man. 
Springing to the ground in an instant, 
Charles seizes and stops the horses and 
assists the old man to his feet. He is 
only slightly bruised, and is soon able to 
go on his way. which he insists upon do- 
ing, though Charles urges him in vain to 
accept his assistance. Thanking Charles 
warmly for his fortunate aid. he asks his 
name, and, giving his card in return, in- 
vites him to call at the Tremout House, 
where he is stopping, that evening. 

"John Austin, Chicago, 111.." was the 
address which appeared upon the card. 
All through the day Charles is thinking 
more of his adventure, of the old man he 
had assisted, and the city in which he 
lived, than of his wearisome labor, which, 
however, he performs with a lighter 
heart than for many months, for he has a 
presentiment that some good fortune is 
in store for him. Through the good offi- 
ces of a fellow employe, who consented 
to do what was required of him for the 
balance of the evening, Charles was ena- 
bled to leave the store at a much earlier 
hour than usual, and having put himself 
in as presentable condition as the limits 
of his plain wardrobe allowed, he was 
soon i n the way to the Tremout House. 
Entering the office, he presented the 
card he had received and asked for him 
whose name it bore. A waiter was sent 
to conduct him to Mr. Austin's room. 
Rapping at the door, a cheerful voice 
bade him "come in," and, entering, he 
was most cordially received by the old 
gentleman to whom he had so luckily 
been of service. Mr. Austin was about 



seventy years ot age, but with a slightly 
stooping figure, which gave him the ap- 
pearance of an older man to the casual 
observer. His benevolent countenance 
and cheerful voice were well calculated 
to inspire the confidence of all with 
whom he came in contact, and in a few 
moments Charles felt perfectly at ease in 
his presence, entering readily into con- 
versation, so that he had soon imparted 
all the essential facts in the history of 
his short life, and all his hopes and aspir- 
ations, and especially his great desire to 
go to Chicago. Mr. Austin had recently 
retired from business in that city, where 
he had lived many years and which was 
still his home, but now, having lost all 
his family by death, he was travelling 
about the country by easy stages, seek- 
ing physical rest and menial diversion. 
He gave Charles much good advice, and 
assured him that he would find no easy 
road to success, even in Chicago; but 

finding him anxious and determined to 
go, insisted upon his accepting from him, 
as a slight testimony of his regard and 
partial compensation for the service he 
had rendered him, a through railway 
ticket to that city, and a sum of money 
sufficient to support him for several 

Charles hesitated at first about accept- 
ing the gift, but it being urged upon him 
not as a reward but as a return service, 
which his venerable friend could readily 
and most gladly render, he hesitated no 

Two days later, having closed his 
labors at the store, and with a letter of 
recommendation from his employers, and 
another from Mr. Austin, introducing 
him to a business friend in that city, 
Charles had left Boston on a through 
train for the new " Mecca" of his ambi- 


[From the Nashua School Report for 1876, 

The deterioration of the people of Xew 
England in physical strength, size and 
energy is a fact which constantly con- 
fronts us. It is clearly evident that un- 
der the present conditions of city life, at 
home and at school, a child of American 
parentage stands a poor chance to enter 
upon a career of life having a good phys- 
ical system— a body healthy, strong, well 
formed, and of good size. 

The saying of Ralph Waldo Emerson 
that "the first requisite to success in 
life is to be a good animal," embodies a 
fundamental principle in the science of 
education. Without a sound constitution 
the most intelligent and laborious man 
is comparatively powerless. The sport 
of painful maladies, he finds himself fet- 
tered at every step in his career. Let- 
ters, science, the arts, crafts the most 
humble, and the higher professions- 
nothing is possible without good health. 

by John H. Goodale, Superintendent.] 

The rare exceptional cases, like that of 
Pope, in which a prodigious amount of 
work is accomplished by a life-long in- 
valid only shows that a mighty pressure 
of steam may do wonders with a crazy 
engine, one time in a thousand. In all 
other cases the result is speedy wreck. 

The physical training of school chil- 
dren should, therefore, command the 
most careful attention of parents, teach- 
ers, and school authorities. Let them 
give earnest heed to the care and devel- 
opment of the body as well as of the 
mind. It is the home, the instrument, 
the perpetual companion of the soul. 
Let the children themselves be taught to 
know that feeding on sweetmeats, sip- 
ping coffee, and lounging on the sofa will 
not make them scholars or fit them for 
the severer emergencies of life. Rather, 
let them eat brown bread aud beef in 
generous slices. Let them wield the axe, 



and sledge, grasp the hoe, trundle the 
wheelbarrow. Let them leap into every 
day as into a new paradise, ** over a wall 
of eight hours' solid sleep." Let them 
of a Saturday hie away over the breezy 
hills, with fit companions, in utter for- 
getfulness of lessons, drills and examina- 
tions, until "every drop of blood in their 
veins tingles with the delight of mere an- 
imal existence." Let them in the absence 
of practical toil, poise the dumb-bell, 
pitch the quoit, glide on skates, or dash 
down the frozen hill-side. Only let all 
these things be done in such measure and 
manner as shall develop brawn and mus- 
cle, health and vigor, and with a distinct 
recognition of their own higher nature 
and capacities. 

We are led to be the more emphatic in 
calling attention to this subject from our 
knowledge of the conditions of health 
now existing in the schools of Xashua. 
Of the girls fourteen years of age and 
upwards thirty-three per cent, (one-third) 
are either invalids, more or less affected 
with a disease of the heart, liver, lungs, 
or some other vital organ disqualifying 
them for the mental work of the school- 
room, or they are suffering from that 
" nervous sensibility" which was un- 
known to Xew England girlhood half a 
century ago. In truth, so prevalent and 
so well understood is this general debili- 
ty of school girls, that during the past 
year a petition numerously signed by the 
matrons of this city and by several well- 
known physicians was presented to the 
School Board requesting them to abolish 
the regulation of marching up and down 
the stairways at recess — an exercise re- 
quiring but little more exertion than the 
ordinary marches and countermarches 
on the pavements. 

Duriug last term, of the eighty-three 
girls in the High School twenty-nine pre- 
sented a written statement from the fara-* 
ily physician certifying that on account 
of feeble health it was desirable that they 
should be relieved from some of the reg- 
ular exercises of the school. 

Now, this physical inability does not 
mainly arise from the influences of school 
life, but rather from causes over which 
teachers and school authorities have no 
control. Home counsel and home influ- 

ence are the controlling force in deter- 
mining the habits and health of our chil- 
dren. Especially is this true of girls, 
who are usually the earliest to betray 
physical infirmity. The indulgence of a 
morbid appetite for improper food ; trans- 
ition from over-heated rooms to a pierc- 
ing atmosphere; late hours and insuffi- 
cient sleep; free indulgence in the ex- 
hausting excitements of fashion and fan- 
ciful reading furnish a solution to the 
mystery of degenerate health and vigor 
so visible among school girls. At an age 
when nothing should be left to the un- 
controlled will of the inexperienced and 
thoughtless, it is unnecessary to argua 
that the young school miss, who leaves a 
heated hall or a social circle at ten or 
eleven o'clock at night all aglow with 
physical exercise and an excited imagi- 
nation, will not be in good preparation 
for the school work of the next day. 
Dull recitations, heavy eyes, and droop- 
ing spirits will constitute the day's expe- 
rience — to be succeeded in due time by 
failing health. 

These conditions of health so prevalent 
in all the Eastern States are attracting 
the careful attention of the highest sci- 
entific and medical authorities of the 
country. Their investigations will at 
least awaken attention to existing facts, 
and suggest to parents the inquiry as to 
what changes must be made in the in- 
dustrial, the social, and the moral train- 
ing of the young to correct these evils. 
In a recent paper written by Dr. Lincoln 
of Boston, an able and intelligent inves- 
tigator of sanitary facts, alluding to the 
wide-spread sources of nervous degener- 
acy, he says : 

i; Our nation is suffering from certain 
wide-spread sources of nervous degener- 
acy. Give the child a constitution deriv- 
ed from excitable parents ; a diet in child- 
hood most abundant, but most unwhole- 
some, and based upon a national disre- 
gard of the true principles of cookery; a 
set of teeth which early fail to do their 
duty; a climate which at its best is ex- 
tremely trying; add to these influences 
those of a moral nature, arising from the 
democratic constitution of our country, 
spurring on every man. woman and child 
to indulge in personal ambition, the de- 
sire to rise in society, to grow rich, to 
get office, to get everything under the 
heavens; add a set of social habits, as 



applied to the life of young girls and boys, 
which is utterly atrocious, which robs so 
many of them "of their childhood at the 
age of ten or twelve, and converts them 
to simpering, self-conceited flirts and men 
of the world, ruses, and independent of 
control, a depraved and pitiable breed of 
'little women and little men'; add finally 
that we have now a population of twelve 

millions dwelling in cities, and exposed 
to those deteriorating influences which 
notoriously belong to city life; give the 
child these conditions to grow up under, 
and can you wonder that he or she 'devi- 
ates from the type* of the sturdy Anglo- 
Saxon pioneer who settled this conti- 
nent *?'' 


We are glad to note the announcement 
of a ''Dictionary of Xew Hampshire Bi- 
ography." the preparation of which work 
has been undertaken by Rev. Silas Ketch- 
urn, formerly pastor of the Congrega- 
tional church at Bristol, a man of large 
culture and historical andantiquarian re- 
search, who from his tastes and habits, 
as well as his great interest in everything 
pertaining to the history and progress of 
the State, is eminently well qualified for 
the faithful performance of the work. 
In a future issue we shall have something 
farther to say ( relative to the proposed 

During the past year quite a number of 
the prominent citizens of the State in the 
various walks of life have been called to 
their final home. Among them were 
some of the ablest and most distinguish- 
ed in their several professions and occu- 
pations. Among the more prominent 
may be mentioned. Hon. Daniel M. Chris- 
tie of Dover, the Xestor of the Xew 
Hampshire bar, Prof. Alpheus Benning 
Crosby, one of the ablest physicians and 
surgeons in the entire country. Rev. Dr. 
J. H. Eames of Concord, the distinguish- 
ed Episcopalian divine, and President 
Asa D. Smith of Dartmouth College, 
well known in the educational world. 

The prevalence of political corruption 
in our country, manifesting itself in vari- 
ous forms, and especially in that most 
deplorable phase— the barter and sale of 
the elective franchise— has long been 
viewed with deep concern by all patriotic 
citizens. That it is even more prevalent 
in our own than in most other States, is 

a lamentable fact that cannot be. gain- 
sayed. and yet we are not ready to con- 
cede that our citizens are more suscepti- 
ble to corrupting influences than those of 
other States. The truth is Xew Hamp- 
shire has long been a sort of political 
stamping ground for both of tne great 
contending parties. The closely balan- 
ced relatiou of the parties in the State, 
and the fact that the Xew Hampshire elec- 
tion, coming as it does first in the year, 
has always been regarded as the *' signal 
gun'- of the political campaign, fully ac- 
count for the lamentable degree of cor- 
ruption manifested in influencing the re- 
sult. This has originated in a compara- 
tively large extent outside the State. 
Unprincipled partisans in all parts of the 
country, and especially at the federal 
capital, have exerted themselves to the 
extent of their power, and with little re- 
gard to the character of the means era- 
ployed, to carry the Xew Hampshire 
election for the one party or the other for 
the sake of the prestige to be gained, and 
the influence of the result upon elections 
to follow in othfr States; so that ours 
has been made, to a large degree, the 
•' scape goat,'' so to speak, for the politi- 
cal iniquities of the country at large. 
Fortunately this condition of things is to 
continue with us no longer. After the 
election now nearly at hand Xew Hamp- 
shire will not be called upon to open the 
political campaign of the year, but will 
fall into line with the great body of States 
holding their electionin Xovember. The 
change will be generally hailed with joy, 
as a relief from undue partisan excite- 
ment, and extraordinarily corrupting in- 




VOL. 1. 

FEBRUARY, 1878. 


NO. 9. 

In the first number of the Granite 
Monthly we gave a sketch and portrait 
of Gov. Benjamin F. Prescott, who 
has since been nominated by the Repub- 
lican party for re-election to the guber- 
natorial office. In accordance with the 
suggestion of many of our patrons, and 
as most appropriate at this time, we pre- 
sent our readers in this number with a 
biographical sketch and accompanying 
portrait of the Hon. Frank A. McKean 
of Nashua, who received the nomination 
of the recent Democratic State Conven- 
tion for Governor. 

Mr. McKean's paternal ancestry was 
of the staunch old Scotch-Irish stock 
which settled in the north of Ireland 
more than two hundred and fifty years 
ago, and from whose midst, in the fall of 
1718, there came over to this country a 
colonj' of emigrants, who in the follow- 
ing year located in the region then called 
" Nuffield," subsequently called London- 
derry, from Londonderry, Ireland, the 
town from which most of the colonists 
had come, and in whose memorable de- 
fence against the forces of King James II. 
some of them had participated. James 
McKeen (the uame was originally spelled 
McKeen, and is to the present time by 
most branches of the family), of whom 
the subject of our sketch is a direct de- 
scendant of the sixth generation, was a 
determined supporter of the Protestant 
cause, and took an active part in the 
defence of Londonderry. He had three 
sons, James, John and William. James 

and John joined the company which pre- 
pared to emigrate to America, but John, 
who was the ancestor of Frank A, Mc- 
Keau, died before the embarkation, yet 
his widow and four children (three sons 
and a daughter) with his brother James 
and his family, including his son-in-law, 
James Xesmith (great-grandfather of 
Hon. George W. Xesmith of Franklin), 
came over with the colony. James Mc- 
Keen was a prominent member of the 
colony and became a leading citizen of 
the new town of Londonderry, being the 
first commissioned Justice of the Peace 
in the town, and prominent in the man- 
agement of public affairs. He had a 
large family of children, his son John 
marrying Mary, the daughter of his 
brother John, and among their children 
was Rev. Joseph McKeen, d. d., first 
President of Bowdoin College. 

The three sons of John McKeen, above 
mentioned, who came over with their 
widowed mother, were James, Rob- 
ert and Samuel. The latter subsequent- 
ly settled in the town of Amherst. 
He reared a family of ten children, six 
sons and four daughters. Three of the 
sons were soldiers in the French and In- 
dian war, and all lost their lives at the 
hands of the Indians, one at the capture 
of Ft. "William Henry, and another, Rob- 
ert, at the battle of Wyoming. The lat- 
ter was the grandfather of Hon. Samuel 
McKeen, Senator in Congress from the 
State of Pennsylvania. His sixth son, 
William, who settled in Deering, also 


hon. f. a. Mckean. 

had a large family, one of whom was 
William McKeen, Jr., the grandfather of 
Frank A. McKean, who became a prom- 
inent citizen and was a member of the 
State Senate in 1S44 and 1S45. 

Hon. Albert McKean, son of William 
McKeen, Jr., and father of Frank A., 
was born in the town of Deering in the 
year 1S10. When quite young, he took 
his worldly possessions in a bundle and 
walked to Francestown, where he se- 
cured a position in the country store of 
Messrs. Clark & Dodge, a well-known 
firm in that region, in whose employ he 
remained several years, till he com- 
menced business for himself in a general 
store at Hillsborough Bridge. He re- 
mained at Hillsborough but a short time, 
however, removing to Nashua in 1S33, 
where he has ever since resided, being 
successfully engaged in trade in a gener- 
al store until 1851, when he disposed of 
his business and became cashier of the 
Indian Head Bank, which position he re- 
tained until 1SG7, when, the bank having 
been reorganized as a National Bank, he 
established a private banking house. Mr. 
McKean has always been a decided Dem- 
ocrat, taking a deep interest in public 
and political affairs. He was a member 
of the N. H. House of Representatives in 
1S43 and 1844, of the State Senate in 1851, 
and a member of the Executive Council 
in 1874. He is still living, in the full en- 
joyment of his bodily health and mental 
powers. He married, soon after com- 
mencing business, a Miss Paine of Rhode 
Island, by whom he has had four chil- 
dren, a son — Frank A. — and three daugh- 
ters. One of the daughters died in in- 
fancy. The others are now the wives of 
two brothers, George F. and Isaac N. 
Andrews, both residing in Nashua. 

Frank A. McKean was born in Nash- 
ua, Oct. 13, 1840, and is, therefore, now 
in his thirty-eighth year. He attended 
the public schools of his native city, 
which, by the way, have long been known 
as among the best in the State, and was 
afterward for about a year a student at 
the Green Mountain Liberal Institute, at 
South Woodstock, Vt., where he was a 
classmate of Hosea W. Parker, now of 
Claremont, late member of Congress from 
the Third District. After this he was 

for some time under the tuition of Rev. 
Farrington Mclntire, who kept a private 
school for boys, where he finished a 
thorough college preparatory course, 

From early boyhood it had been young 
McKeau's ambition to enter the Military 
Academy at West Point. To that end 
his prepartory education had been direct- 
ed, and having attained the proper age 
for admission and the requisite prepara- 
tion, he made application, through the 
Secretary of War, for an appointment at 
large by the President, knowing it to be 
useless to apply for the appointment by 
the member of Congress in that District, 
who was a Republican and entirely un- 
likely to consider such a request from 
the son of a prominent Democrat. His 
application was aocompanied by letters 
of recommendation from Hon. Harry 
Hibbard, Hon. John S. Wells, and other 
distinguished Democratic politicians, and 
he was also personally recommended by 
ex-President Pierce. Soon afterward he 
received a communication from the Sec- 
retary of War, John B. Floyd, stating 
that his application and accompanying 
recommendations were duly received and 
submitted to' the President, and adding 
that he might rest assured he would re- 
ceive the desired appointment. Time 
passed, and he heard nothing further un- 
til he saw the list of appointments of 
cadets at large made by the President, 
but his name was not among them. 
Some time after, when in Washington, 
President Pierce, who as a personal 
friend of Albert McKean had taken an in- 
terest in the matter, in the course of an 
interview with President Buchanan al- 
luded to the subject aud inquired how it 
happened that the appointment was not 
made, when Mr. Buchanan informed him 
that he had never seen the application. 
As all or nearly all of the ten cadets at 
large appointed by the President at this 
time were from the South, it seems en- 
tirely probable the Secretary of War. 
Floyd, purposely withheld from the Pres- 
ident Mr. McKean's application, with, 
those of others from the North, so as to 
secure the appointments for Southerners. 
This was about midway in President Bu- 
chanan's term of office, when, as it will 
be remembered, the Southern leaders 



:; 7 


fi j 


Hon. Frank A. McKean. 

were preparing for the emergency of 
war between the sections, and conse- 
quently taking to themselves all possible 
advantages within their reach. 

Failing to attain the object of his ambi- 
tion, Mr. McKean taught school awhile, 
and subsequently entered the bank of 
which his father was cashier, in the ca- 
pacity of teller, where he remained until, 
in 1S67, he engaged as a partner with his 
father in the private banking house then 
established under the firm name of A. 
McKean & Co. This firm transacted a 
large and successful business, command- 
ing the full confidence of the business 
men of Nashua, until, in 1S75, the mana- 
gers of the Indian Head National Bank, 
fully realizing the advantage to be de- 
rived by the consolidation of its business 
with their own, entered into negotiation 
with the Messrs. McKean to that end,aud 
the arrangement was soon duly consum- 
mated. Under this arrangement Frank 
A. McKean became Cashier of the Indian 
Head National Bank, a position which 
he now fills, at a salary of £4000 per an- 

num, one of the conditions of the engage- 
ment being that his father might attend 
to his duties in the bank for a limited 
portion of the time, when he might find 
it necessary to be absent. With a thor- 
rough training in and natural aptitude 
for the business, he ranks among the 
most efficient and reliable bank officials 
in the State, and the institution with 
which he is connected is fortunate in com- 
manding his services. 

For three years previous to July last 
(y/hen he resigned) Mr. McKean held the 
position of special agent or adjuster for 
the N. H. Fire Insurance Co., in per- 
formance of the duties of which position 
he was brought much in contact with 
business men in different sections of the 
State. He was recently chosen one of 
the directors of the company. He is also 
a member of the board of directors of the 
Nashua & Lowell Railroad, and assistant 
treasurer of the Nashua & Rochester 

In politics, in which he has been much 
interested from youth, Mr. McKean, like 



his father, has always been an active and 
earnest Democrat, yet never so strong a 
partisan as to regard the public interest 
secoudary to partisan advantage. When- 
ever he has been the candidate of his 
party for official position (which has 
never been from any ambition of his 
own) he has always commanded a very 
considerable support from members of 
the opposite party, both from personal 
friendship and confidence in his capacity 
and fidelity to duty. He was elected a 
member of the city council in 1SGG and 
re-elected the following year. In 1S67 he 
represented his ward in the State Legis- 
lature, and again in 1S6S, serving the first 
year as a member of the Committee on 
Banks and the second year upon the 
Railroad Committee. In 1S73, at the ur- 
gent solicitation of his party friends, he 
accepted the Democratic nomination for 
Mayor of the city, and although the op- 
posing candidate was the Hon. Hiram F. 
Morrill, the popular M war Mayor,'' and 
the Republican party largely in the as- 
cendant, such was Mr. McKean's popu- 
larity that he was elected by a small plu- 
rality. He gave the city a vigorous, im- 
partial and economical administration, 
so completely satisfactory to the people 
that, although all the expedients known 
to political warfare were resorted to to 
defeat his re-election the following year, 
he then received a plurality of 353 votes, 
and an actual majority of 105. 

Aside from those mentioned above, Mr. 
McKean has held no public position ex- 
cept that of Bank Commissioner for a 
short time under Governor Weston, to 
which he was appointed against his own 
protest and finally consented to hold only 
till a successor could be found. It was 
only through the continued and earnest 
solicitation of personal friends and party 
leaders in different sections of the State, 
that he was finally induced to consent to 
the presentation of his name as a candi- 
date for the Democratic gubernatorial 
nomination ; but his selection at the re- 
cent State Convention of the party by a 
larger and more unanimous vote than 

had ever before been accorded any can- 
didate of either party in the State, upon 
a first nomination, indicates a strong 
hold upon the popular confidence. 

In June, 1S62, he was united in mar- 
riage with Miss Clara Bowers, daughter 
of the late Jesse Bowers, a prominent 
citizen and influential member of the old 
Whig party, and a half-sister of Col. 
George Bowers and of the wife of the late 
Gen. John Bedel of Bath. They have 
two children, both boys, thirteen and 
nine years of age respectively. Their 
home is a fine modern residence on Con- 
cord St., in an elevated locality, com- 
manding an extensive^ view, and sur- 
rounded by spacious and well-kept 
grounds. The house was built by Mr. 
McKean some years since, and occupies 
a portion of the old farm formerly owned 
by his grandfather. 

In religious sentiment Mr. McKean 
sympathizes with the liberal element, at- 
tending public worship at the Unitarian 
Church, with which society the family 
are connected, though he is not a mem- 
ber of the church organization. He is a 
prominent member of the Masonic fra- 
ternity, having received all the degrees 
known to the order, and is at present 
Junior Warden of the Grand Lodge of 
the State. He is also a member of the 
Independent Order of Odd Fellows, be- 
longing to both the lodge and encamp- 
ment at Nashua. He was chosen an hon- 
orary member of the famous military or- 
ganization known as the Amoskeag Vet- 
erans a few years since, and takes a live- 
ly interest in the welfare of that notable 
battalion of citizen soldiery. 

Mr. McKean is of fine personal appear- 
ance and pleasing address, a ready con- 
versationalist, and equally at home in 
social and business circles. Of un- 
blemished reputation in private as well 
as public life, respected alike by the 
humble laborer and the wealthy and 
aristocratic citizen, because treating them 
alike with consideration and respect, his 
popularity is indeed commensurate with 
his merits. 




Two brown butterflies, dotted with gold, 
Swift of wing and fair to behold. 
Sailed along with pleasure untold 

Through a beautiful valley ; 
Flow'rets bloomed on every side, 
Bright with beauty and gay with pride, 
And a shining rill down the mountain side 

Tinkled most musically. 

On the butterflies' gold the sun shone warm, 
There was naught to sadden and naught to harm, 
Life was full of a varied charm, 

As they loitered through the valley ; 
Sipping the honey and drinking the dew, 
Pleased with all that met their view, 
Earth so green and sky so blue, 

Who would not thus dally? 

Oh ! this was Fairyland, I ween, 
And one was king and one was queen 
Of the fairest realm that ever was seen, 

These butterflies brown and golden ; 
And so they ruled in royal state, 
Full of the bliss of a happy fate, 
And kept their kingdom inviolate, 

Not dreaming 'twas lightly holden. 

But a monster grim, whose name was Change, 
Looked over the top of the mountain range, 
And all the scene grew wild and strange ; 

Alas ! for the reign of Pleasure ! 
The sky became one black, black cloud, 
And the voice of the wind wailed fierce and loud, 
The weeping mists did weave a shroud, 

And Joy had won its measure. 

" Alas ! alas ! alas ! " they cry, 
Saddened King and Queen Butterfly, 
Drenched and chilled, they will surely die, 

Their royal reign is over. 
A mocking voice seems to cry rt Ha! ha! " 
And the rushing wind bears from afar 
The secret moan of a falling star, 

For Joy is a sad, sad rover. 




Gen. James Reed, the original propri- 
etor of Monadnock Number 4, now Fitz- 
william, New Hampshire, was a native 
of Woburn, Massachusetts, where he was 
born in the year 1724. He was a descend- 
ant, in the fifth generation, of William 
and Mabel Reed, who sailed from Lon- 
don July, 1635, and arrived in Boston in 
October the same year; and in 164S set- 
tled in Woburn. 

He was the eldest son of Joseph and 
Sarah (Rice) Reed of Woburn. His an- 
cestors had lived in Woburn since the 
settlement of William, the emigrant. Of 
the early life and education of James 
Reed no record remains. His official pa- 
pers and correspondence, while they bear 
evidence of superior abilities, show that 
his literary advantages, like many of his 
cotemporaries, were somewhat limited. 
He married Abigail Hinds of New Sa- 
lem, and first settled in Brookfield, and 
afterwards in that part of Lunenburg now 
Fitchburg. His dwelling stood upon the 
site of the present City Hall. The records 
of both Brookfield and Lunenburg show 
him to have been a member of the church 
in both places. 

His military life commenced in 1755, 
when he served in the campaign against 
the French and Indians, commanding a 
company of provincial troops under Col- 
onel Brown. In the same capacity he 
served with General Abercrombie in 
1758, at Ticonderoga ; and with General 
Amherst, in 1759. He was employed in 
various public services until the peace of 
1763. In the year 17G5 he settled in Fitz- 
william, and in 1770 he received the com- 
mission of Lieutenant-Colonel. The lapse 
of time has hidden from view the detailed 
account of his services in these cam- 
paigns; but his early selection by his 
countrymen for the command of a regi- 
ment at the beginning of the Revolution 
indicates that his military career was 
creditable to himself and valuable to his 

country. It was in this severe school 
that he, like many of the officers of the 
Revolution, acquired that military skill 
which gave strength and efficiency to the 
Continental army. 

On the 19th of May, 1773, Col. Reed 
with several others received a grant of 
Fitzwilliam, or Monadnock Number 4, 
from John Went worth, the Provincial 
Governor of New Hampshire. In 1770, 
he, with his family, settled about a mile 
northwesterly of the centre village in 
Fitzwilliam, where he erected a large and 
commodious house. Being the owner of 
a considerable portion of the area of the 
town, he was actively employed in pro- 
moting its settlement, and for those times 
was considered wealthy; and the first 
school in Fitzwilliam was taught in his 
house by Miss Sarah Harris, at the age of 
seventeen. His name appears upon the 
records as the leading spirit of the town. 
He was Proprietor's Clerk and Modera- 
tor of the town meetings for several years 
after its incorporation. 

On the breaking out of the Revolution, 
he was among the first to embrace the 
cause of his country and serve in its de- 
fence. Upon the tidings of the battle of 
Lexington he raised a company of volun- 
teers and marched at their head to Med- 
ford. His ardor in the cause did not per- 
mit him to be idle. He continued to en- 
list volunteers, and soon had four com- 
panies enrolled under his standard. He 
afterwards repaired to Exeter, and was 
appointed Colonel of a regiment by the 
New Hampshire Provincial Assembly on 
the first of June. 1775. On the follow- 
ing day he received verbal orders from 
General Folsom at Exeter to repair to 
the western part of the State and collect 
the men whom he had previously enlist- 
ed for the service, and in pursuance there- 
with he immediately set out to collect 
and organize his regiment. He was at 
Fitzwilliam on the 8th of June, as ap- 



pears by his letters of that date to the 
Provincial Congress, recommending the 
appointment of Andrew Colburnof Marl- 
borough Major of the next regiment 
which should be raised. He soon after 
marched his command to Cambridge. By 
his communication to the Committee of 
Safety at Exeter we learn that he arrived 
there on the 12th of the month. He 
waited on Gen. Ward, who ordered his 
command to Medford on account of the 
throng of soldiers at Cambridge. On 
reaching Medford he was informed by 
Col. Stark that no quarters could be there 
obtained. In this dilemma he again ap- 
plied to Gen. Ward, who issued the order 
" that Col. Reed quarter his regiment in 
the houses near Charlestown jSTeck, and 
keep all necessary guards between the 
barracks and ferry, and on Bunker Hill." 
On the 13th he marched his regiment to 
the Neck, where they obtained good 
quarters. On the 14th he issued regi- 
mental orders — ten in number. They 
were stringent in their terms, and from 
their tenor they indicate that the position 
of the regiment was an important one, 
and that vigilance was necessary for the 
safety of the corrimand. 

Col. James JReed-s JRegimental Orders. 
[Copied from MS. State Pap. Rev'n, Vol. I., p. 254,] 
Charlestown, June the 14, 1773. 


1st. That each Capt. or Commanding officer of 
each company Immediately make a True Return 
of all the men they and their Recruiting officers 
have inlisted according to a form given them by 
the Adjutants. 

21y. That each officer see that there Companys 
are a quipt with ten Rounds at lestof Powder and 
Ball and that there Fierlocks are kept in good or- 
der at all Tunes and give there men spechal or- 
ders not to tire a gun on any account whatever 
unless Besett by the enemy. 

31y. That each Comander of a Company im- 
body all his Company that are of from Duty Twice 
a day to Exercise them in the best manor for 
learning the arts of War. 

41y That each officer give spechal orders to 
these soldiers that they do no Damag to any of 
the Houses where they are Quartered or to any 
Garden or Grass in any p;trts of this Town on 
pain of being punished according to the ofence. 

51y. That no soldier be allowed to strool from 
his Company or pass from his incampment to 
Charlestown Ferrey or to any other incampment 
without leve from die re officers. 

61y. That each Commanding officer of each 
Company cause the Rules and Regulations for 
the army to be Bead at the Hed of u»c Respective 
Companys fourthwith and it is expected triat all 
officers and soldiers govern themselves accord- 

71y. That the Officers see that the men and 
Barracks are kept clean. 

Sly. That there be a Garde praded this after- 

noon at 6 o'clock of the same Number of officers 
and soldiers that are now on Garde to releve 
Capt. Whiteomb and his party and that the Adju- 
tant and orderly Sargants keep a good Roster so 
that neither officer or soldier be called upon for 
duty out of there proper Turn. 

91y. That there be no Noyse in Camp after nine 
o'clock at Knight but all to Repair to their Logens 
or Barraks. 

lOly. That Ephraim Stone is apointed Quarter 
master serjant until further orders. 

James Reed, Coll. 

The same day he wrote a communica- 
tion to the Committee of Safety at Exe- 
ter, giving a detailed account of his 
movements since he had left Exeter, and 
closed by stating the want of a Chaplain, 
Surgeon and Armorer for his regiment. 
On the loth he issued a supplementary 
order, which added to the stringency 
and efficiency of the former. A better 
idea of this order may be gathered by 
giving it entire : 

"Charlestown, June the 15, 1775. 

Regiment ae Orders — The main Gard this day 
is to consist of one Capt. 2 Luts. 4 sergeant*, 4 
corporals and 50 privets. The Capt of the main 
Gard is to keep a trusty Sergeant with the Sen- 
terys in the Street below' the Gard house to exain- 
in all pasangers Let none pars without shoing 
proper pases in the Day time and none to pass 
after Nine o'clock at Knight without giving the 
counter sine and no Sentrey is to set down on his 
post and when any held officer pases them to 
stand with their lirelocks Rested no soldier to 
swim in the water on the Sabath day nor on any 
other Day to stay in the water Longer than is nes- 
asarey to wash themselves. 

Signed James Reed, Coll. 

This order is characteristic of the man 
and shows that no lack of discipline and 
vigilance was allowed in his command, 
that they might be prepared for a move- 
ment which, it is reasonably inferred, he 
was aware would soon be made. The 
crisis was close at hand. On the morn- 
ing of the memorable 17th of June he 
was the first officer of his rank on the 
field, and his the only regiment from 
Xew Hampshire ready for action on the 
morning of the battle of Bunker Hill. 
He was stationed on the left wing, by the 
rail fence, where he was joined at two 
o'clock in the afternoon by Col. Stark. 
This was, by all accounts, the hottest as 
well as the best fought portion of the 
field. The ready genius of Col. Keed de- 
signed the parapet, which, constructed 
by the brave soldiers of Xew Hampshire 
under fire of the enemy's batteries, so 
wonderfully preserved them from the 
disasters of the day. This parapet con- 
sisted of a breastwork of stones hastily 
thrown across the beach to Mystic River, 



and a rail fence extending up the hillside 
to the redoubt. It was in front of the 
breastwork that the British lines were 
three times hurled back under the deadly 
fire of Reed and Stark. Here the most 
efficient lighting was done ; and here the 
greatest number of dead were lying when 
the battle had ceased. After the third 
and last repulse the New Hampshire 
troops raised the shout of victory, rushed 
over the fence and pursued the retreating 
foe until restrained by Col. Stark. This 
post, so nobly defended through the ac- 
tion and so resolutely maintained against 
the last assault of the British, after the 
redoubt had fallen, defeated General 
Howe's design of cutting off the main 
body. After the redoubt had given way, 
this heroic band slowly retreated, and 
Col. Reed was the last officer who left 
the field. 

He remained with the army after its 
command was assumed by General 
Washington, being posted upon Winter 
Hill, and upon the reorganization of the 
forces on the first of January, 1776, his 
regiment was ranked second in the Con- 
tinental Army. 

The evacuation of the British troops 
on the 17th of March concluded the siege 
of Boston, and Colonel Reed accompa- 
nied the army on its movement to New 
York in the following April. On the 
24th of April he was put into the 3d Bri- 
gade under General Sullivan, and was 
soon after ordered up the Hudson to re- 
lieve the force under Arnold. The fol- 
lowing receipt, extracted from the Amer- 
ican Archives, given on his departure 
from New York, serves to illustrate the 
confidence reposed in Colonel Reed : 

New York, April 29, 177G. 
Then received from Gen. Washington three 
boxes, said to contain three hundred thousand 
dollars, to be delivered to Gen. Schuyler at Al- 

Signed James Reed. 

The money above alluded to was doubt- 
less for the payment of Schuyler's army. 
Sullivan's command passed over the 
ground which was familiar to Colonel 
Reed by his campaigns in the previous 
wars, as far as the mouth of the river 
Sorrel. -Here they met the retreating 
army, and Gen. Sullivan assumed the 
command. Co]. Reed's skill and forti- 
tude in the conduct of the retreat is 

highly spokon of. On one occasion, in 
the absence of Arnold, he received and 
held a talk with the chiefs of some Indian 
tribes. It was managed with address 
and successfully concluded by Colonel 
Reed, and the pledges of their friendly 
disposition were transmitted by him to 
the President of Congress. The retreat 
reached Ticonderoga on the 1st of July, 
177G. A worse foe than the enemy at 
this time attacked the American army. 
Disease, the unfailing attendant of hard- 
ship and exposure, now broke out and 
prevailed to an alarming extent. Small- 
pox, dysentery and malignant fevers rap- 
idly thinned the ranks of the patriot 
army. Colonel Reed was attacked with 
fever at Crown Point, and, perhaps for 
want of proper medical treatment, suf- 
fered the loss of his sight. This calam- 
ity terminated his prospects for any fur- 
ther usefulness in the service of his coun- 
try. It was while thus suffering from 
dangerous illness he was created a Brig- 
adier General of the Continental Army. 
He was appointed by Congress on the 
9th of August, 1776, on the recommenda- 
tion of General Washington. On the 2d 
of September Gen. Gates speaks of him 
as so ill at Fort George that he would 
probably not be tit for service in that 
campaign. He received orders from Gen. 
Washington to join him at headquarters, 
but on account of sickness was unable to 
comply. He eventually retired from the 
army on half pay until the close of the 
war. t 

He returned to Fitzwilliam, where he 
resided until the year 1783, when he 
moved to Keene. Here his Abigail died. 
The following inscription was taken from 
the large headstone of slate erected to 
her memory in the cemetery at Keene; 

"In memory of Mrs. Abigail, wife of Genl. 
James Reed, who departed this life August 27th, 
17'Jl, in the ti8th year of her age. 
There's nothing here but who as nothing weighs. 
The more our joy the more we know it's vaiu; 
liose then from earth the grasp of fond desire, 
Weigh anchor and some happier clime explore." 

Hale, in his " Annals of Keene, " 
says that Gen. Reed, whose ordinary res- 
idence was Fitzwilliam, is remembered 
here as an old blind man, and as almost 
daily seen, after the close, of the war, 
walking up and down Main Street, aid- 
ing and guided by Mr. Washburn, who 



was paralyzed on one side. He resumed 
his residence in Fitzwilliam, where he 
married for his second wife Molly Far- 
rar of the same town. About the year 
1S00 he removed to Fitchburg, where he 
spent the remainder of his days. He 
died at Fitchburg, February 13, 1S07, 
aged eighty-three years, and was buried 
with military honors. In the old bury- 
ing ground at Fitchburg stands his mon- 
ument, quite elaborate for the times, 
which bears the following quaint inscrip- 
tion : 

"In the various military scenes in which his 
country was concerned from 1735 to the superior 
conflict, distinguished in our history as the Revo- 
lution, he sustained commissions iu that Revolu- 
tion. At the important post of Lake George he 
totally lost his sight. From that period to his 
death he received from his country the retribu- 
tion allowed to Pensioners of the rank of Briga- 
dier General." 

In all the relations of a long and useful 

life, Gen. Eeed sustained the highest 

character for honesty and integrity. In 

the numerous records relating to him 

there is naught found but words of praise. 

Wherever his name is mentioned by his 

comrades in arms, from Washington 

down, it is in terms of commendation 

and eulogy. He was emphatically a 

Christian warrior. In the church records 

of the various towns where he resided 

his name is enrolled among the records 
of e*ch, and his military orders bespeak 
the Christian as well as the soldier. 
Upon the records of the Congregational 
Church in Fitzwilliam we find the fol- 
lowing : 

"James Reed, admitted March 27, 1771. Dis- 
missed to church in Keene, June 29, 17S3. Abi- 
gad Reed, admitted September 22, 1771. Dis- 
missed to church in Keene, June 29, 17S3." 

Gen. Reed's family consisted of six 
sons and five daughters. His descend- 
ants are quite numerous, and among 
them are found brilliant names in differ- 
ent parts of our country. Two of his 
sous, Sylvanus and James, served in the 
war of the Revolution. Sylvanus was an 
ensign in his father's regiment. His 
commission, which is still preserved, 
bearing date January 1, 1776, is signed 
by John Hancock, President of Congress. 
He was adjutant in the campaign of 1778, 
under Gen. Sullivan, and was afterwards 
promoted colonel of a regiment. He 
served through the war, and died at Cam- 
bridge, Mass., in 1798. James Reed, Jr., 
also served through the war. He was 
disabled in service, and died a pensioner 
at Fitzwilliam, February 19, 183G, at the 
age of eighty-nine years. 



The idea has been advanced that a pos- 
sibility in natural economy implies that 
within the area of the vast watery do- 
main in the farther part of the Eastern 
hemisphere was once a continent. Its 
place is now marked only by the inter- 
spersed islands in the otherwise present 
wide waste of waters. The suggestion 
is readied through an indirect process of 
reasoning. An element of implied 
thought recognizes the fact that the iso- 
lated inhabitants of the scattered islands 
mentioned have not kept pace with the 
continental nations in the vicinity, in the 
direction of mental and moral improve- 
ment. Assuming, as some do, that all 
human races are essentially consanguin- 
eous, it rationally follows that isolation 

is the harbinger of barbarism and associ- 
ation the friend of civilization. 

Dropping the geological. phase of the 
above theory as of no particular value to 
our proposed train of thought, there is 
consistent room for the assertion of the 
practical emphasis of the social part. 
Social community is essential to culture 
in its highest and truest aspect. The 
groping instincts of dawning intelligence 
unmistakably recognize the incontrovert- 
able fact. 

In this vicinity, it is becoming the 
chronic complaint that the young and 
vigorous masses are rushing into the 
cities. The common statement is indis- 
putably true. The popular interpreta- 
tions of the phenomena are, however, 



largely an aspersion of the rational facts 
of the case. 

The ascription of cupidity to the des- 
cribed phenomenon is untenable and base. 
It is uutenable because much of the most 
substantial wealth is created and enjoyed 
in the country ; it is base because it de- 
fames the fair purposes of thousands who 
never make money their special pursuit 
on entering the domain of city life. The 
imputation of a love of license is ration- 
ally impossible. In the confines of a 
great city, the law of constraint is many 
times more forcibly impressed than in 
the country; even in the city's haunts of 
vice is a sterner discipline and a more 
rigorous etiquette than is known iu the 
halls of honorable intercourse, and the 
penalties of disorder are more painful in 
their reactions. Sequel to the fact that 
it is not shown that the general moral 
status of the mass of migrating people 
is degraded by the change, the cords of 
legal bondage are more and more sensi- 
bly felt as step by step one winds his way 
from the vicinity of the green fields and 
hedgerows to the dun, paved and crowd- 
ed marts. 

In the present dominant state of our 
country life, the springing generation in- 
clines longingly towards the associations 
of city life because they are civil. Civ- 
ilization is the precious boon that in- 
spires the efforts of every true genera- 
tion. Discipline and classification being 
the first practical effect of civilization 
appealing to the mind of the incipient 
civilian, his nature seizes them as the 
means of better actualizing the potential 
qualities locked up in the capabilities of 
his being. Association affording increas- 
ed knowledge and broader facilities, civ- 
ilized culture rapidly becomes to him 
more and more a grateful realization. 
The improved opportunities which civil 
culture provides for healthful and enno- 
bling recreation secure to him a greater 
quickness of that vivacity that makes life 
a scene of enjoyment as well as a held of 
labor. It is the law. progress and en- 
joyment of the city that invites people 
from the country. It is not that they 
love the natural attractions of the coun- 
try less, but that they love the civilized 
advantages of the city more. When peo- 
ple go to the city, they leave all but their 
recollections behind; when people go to 

the country, they, in their manners and 
customs, take something of the city 
along with them, fostering it as the em- 
bodiment of a cultivated privilege. It is 
a law of civilization that it should be so. 

We do not wish to even appear to ad- 
vocate an exclusive social economy. We 
have no prejudice against the country 
and no fulsome adulation to extend to- 
wards the city. If it were wholly possi- 
ble, we would fain dissociate, in the 
mind of the reader, the terms country and 
city from their purely restrictive mean- 
ings. So doing, we could safely say, that, as 
all men begin in the country, so they 
should all end in the city. It is the same 
as to say natural crudeness should give 
place to civilized refinement. The Bible, 
you know, begins with man in a garden 
and ends with him in a city. Still, using 
the terms of common speech, all people 
cannot live in cities. It were better that 
some that are now living in cities were 
back again in the country. Still again, 
it is hardly to be expected that many of 
them will come back. Some cannot, if 
they would. Some do not wish to come 
back. Some — and these are they that 
make the city what it truly ought to be — 
do not wish to come back unless they can 
come back civilized. What to them are 
sunlight, air, and fresh, green earth, un- 
less they can order their lives civilly, cul- 
tivate wisdom and beauty, and entertain 
themselves choicely? If they are rich, 
they can come into the country and bear 
themselves independently. If they are 
poor, what can they do? 

Our country life should become more 
civilized. There should be in it more re- 
spect for intelligent order. Civil law in 
its etymological significance should be 
more regarded. The rising country pop- 
ulation should be acquainted with order, 
intelligence, industry, recreation, taste, 
beauty and reverence. Every township 
should faithfully set apart its provisional 
accommodations for all these things. 
The dominant public sentiment should 
insist upon the improvement of them all. 
If the executive facilities are not suffi- 
cieut for these things, a draft should be 
made upon the city, society adopting its 
suggestions, manners and models. Thus 
may the natural and legitimate desires of 
the socially ambitious be gratified, and a 
greater number be content to find a home 
by the graves of their fathers. 




[The following narrative of the personal experience of Col. Bancroft at the battle of Bunker Hill 
is from advance sheets of " Sketches of Old Dunstable," and by the pen of the venerable John B. Hill, 
Esq., the historian of Mason, who, although eighty-two years of age, retains much of the lire and spir- 
it of youth. It was written from dictation in 1826, and is printed for the first time in the " LSketches of 
Old Dunstable," which work will soon be issued and for sale by George M. Elliott, 43 Central St., Low- 
ell, Mass., a limited number of copies, only, being printed,] 

On the night of the 16th of June, 1775, 
my company was ordered out with the 
detachment to take possession of the 
heights of Charlestown. This detach- 
ment consisted of three regiments com- 
manded by Col's Prescott, Bridge and 
Frye, and amounted in all to between 
1000 and 1200 men. These regiments 
were principally from Middlesex county, 
Col. Prescott from Pepperell, Col. Bridge 
from Chelmsford, Col. Frye from Ando- 
ver. I was that evening on a court-mar- 
tial and could not get liberty to go with 
my company, but in the morning of the 
17th General Ward granted me permis- 
sion to join my company, though the 
court-martial was not through. Soon af- 
ter I reached the hill our men left work 
and piled their intrenching tools in our 
rear, and waited in expectation of rein- 
forcements and refreshments, but neither 
reached us, if any were sent. The rein- 
forcements halted at Charlestown Neck. 
Whilst I was standing by the redoubt be- 
fore the action began, a ball from the 
Somerset passed within a few inches of 
my head, which seriously affected my 
left eye so that it finally became totally 

When the works were planned no cal- 
culation was made for the use of cannon, 
and of course no embrasures were left 
for them. But on the morning of the 
17th two ship cannon were sent up and a 
platform with them. About ten o'clock 
the British troops began to make their 
appearance at the wharves in Boston. 
General Putnam, who had been incessant 
in his exertions through the morning to 
bring reiuforcements, now rode up to us 
at the fort and says : " My lads, these 
tools must be carried back," and turned 
and rode away. An order was never 
obeyed with more readiness. From eve- 
ry part of the line volunteers ran anj 

some picked up one. some two shovels, 
mattocks, etc., and hurried over the hill. 
When the pile of tools was thus removed 
I went through the lines to form an esti- 
mate of the number of men in the re- 
doubt, at the same time stating that those 
who had gone with the tools would come 
back, though I was by no means confi- 
dent that they would. I estimated the 
number then left in the redoubt at 150, 
but was afterward informed by one of the 
captains of Col. Frye's regiment that he 
counted them, and the whole number, in- 
cluding officers, was 163. I was not cer- 
tain that any reinforcements after this 
time came into the redoubt; thus the 
number of our effective force was very 
materially reduced. General Putnam had 
given his orders and gone, and nobody 
seemed to think it belonged to him to 
stop the men and execute the order in a 
proper way. 

The artillery-men had all gone with the 
tools, and Col. Prescott came to me and 
said, " If you can do anything with the 
cannon I wish you would. I give you 
the charge of them." I directed the men 
to dig down the bank in order to form an 
embrasure, which they were forced to do 
with their hands, for the party that had 
carried off the intrenching tools had not 
left us a single shovel or mattock. Men 
never worked with more zeal. Many of 
them dug till their fingers bled. To loos- 
en the earth I loaded the cannon and fired 
into the gap, and they dug again, and I 
fired a second time. Both theseballs fell 
in Boston, one near the meeting-house in 
Brattle square, the other on Cornhill, as 
1 was afterward informed by Boston gen- 

By this time the British had landed. 
They learned that we had cannon on the 
right or most westwardly part of the 
fort, which was probably the reason they 


did not attempt to flank ns on that quar- 
ter till the close of the action. We were 
not able to use these cannon in the ac- 
tion because the enemy advanced and the 
firing commenced before we had time to 
dig down the bank far enough to use 
them against the enemy. Still as the 
few shots that were fired gave the enemy 
notice that we had artillery and prevent- 
ed their attempting to turn our right 
flank, it must be regarded as a very im- 
portant circumstance, for had they at- 
tempted it, they would have succeeded, 
and we should not have had more than a 
shot or two at them. I was fully per- 
suaded that the moment they attempted 
this point, we could no longer maintain 
our fort, and the event showed that I was 
not mistaken, for it was not more than 
four minutes after they turned this flank 
before we were obliged to retreat. The 
British troops had begun their march. 
They were steadily and confidently ad- 
vancing directly in our front. Our men 
turned their heads every minute to look 
on the one side for their fellow soldiers 
who had gone off with the tools and for 
the reinforcements, which were expect-